Nine Months and Counting
by PlayerPiano
Summary: After three years of marriage, Victor and Victoria are expecting a new addition to the Van Dort clan.
1. Notifying the Grandparents 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to "Corpse Bride" or its characters.

I. The Van Dorts

"Well, it's about bloody time!" Nell Van Dort exclaimed, slapping her folded fan against her knee. "Honestly Victor, we was beginning to think there was something wrong with you!"

"Quite true," William agreed. "How long's it been now since you were married? Five years?"

Victor and Victoria glanced at each other. "Three, Father," Victor said. This really wasn't the reaction they had been hoping for. On their arrival at Victor's parent's home, both Victor and Victoria had practically been bursting with their news. Over tea, sitting on Nell's plush, ostentatious parlor furniture, Victor had proudly made the announcement: By October, he and Victoria would be parents.

They'd sort of duped themselves into believing that there would be hearty congratulations and embraces. Maybe even some happy tears. In short, a repeat of the scene they themselves had had at home when they'd discovered that Victoria was expecting. Probably, that kind of reaction was a bit too much to expect from Victor's parents.

"I must say it's a relief to know we're finally going to get some heirs out of this," Nell said. She leaned toward Victoria. Without bothering to lower her voice, she added, "Frankly, I'm surprised you managed to get my Victor to do _anything_. God knows _everything _frightens the boy, and I wouldn't think that _that _would be any exception."

"Mother!" Victor groaned, mortified, as Victoria gaped. For all her airs, Victor's mother hadn't quite grasped the concept of polite conversation. Even while aiming at mingling with the elite, Nell still had the habit of speaking in the rough, blunt manner she'd grown up using. She made a valiant, over-the-top effort to be genteel most of the time, but she often let herself slip when in the privacy of her own home. Most of the time these "slips" caused Victor a great deal of embarrassment, and managed to make everybody in the room uncomfortable.

"Now, now," Victor's father said in a soothing tone. "Let's not get all worked up."

"No one's worked up, William!" Nell snapped. "I was just stating a plain fact, is all."

"All right, dear, all right," William replied. He turned to Victor and Victoria and smiled. "By the way, did we remember to say 'congratulations'?" he asked.

"You've said it now," Victoria smiled, as Victor puffed himself up proudly. "And thank you."

"Well, I'm sure we could all chatter on all day, but I _am _entertaining some _very _important people this evening. Was that all, then?" Nell asked, effectively cutting the short pleasant moment even shorter. Taking the hint, Victor and Victoria rose to leave.

"Thank you very much for the visit," Victor said. The two of them stood there, feeling a little awkward as Victor's parents stared at them. What were they waiting for? Victor wondered vaguely if he was supposed to ask who these very important people were that his mother was entertaining, but he really didn't care. He was sure he'd hear all about it eventually, anyway.

"I suppose we'll be going, then," Victoria finally said. Taking Victor's arm, she started for the entry hall.

"Wait!" Nell cried. Startled, Victor and Victoria stopped and turned around, wondering what the matter was. "I need to call the butler to see you out," Nell explained in a very haughty manner. "It ain't proper in the least for you to just walk out the door."

She glanced about the room, as though searching for something. What she was looking for, Victor hadn't any idea. All he knew was that two hours was enough time to spend in his parents' company, and he was anxious to be out of there. Still, he stood patiently as his mother grew more harassed-looking. Finally she turned to her husband.

"William, where the devil is the bell-pull?"

"Bell-pull?"

"Yes, you imbecile, to call the butler with!"

"Ah, _that _bell-pull. Haven't installed one yet, dear."

"Oh, well that's just _fine_," Nell said. Standing up, she continued, "I'll just have to do it the old-fashioned way, then." She took a deep breath, and in the shrillest tone imaginable, yelled at the top of her voice, "TIGGENS!"

Victor, Victoria, and William all winced, covering their ears. Nell gave a very delicate cough and straightened the lace on her collar. Soon enough there were footsteps in the hall, and Tiggens appeared in the doorway. He stared at the four in the parlor with that dazed look he always had, and took an opportunity to eye Victoria up and down. The man looked a bit scruffy to be a butler, what with his frazzled gray hair and slightly off-putting aura of...well, daftness. According to Nell, Tiggens was quite a bargain--he worked for hardly half of what butlers were usually paid, for one thing. Why Nell had decided to try and be thrifty when hiring help was a mystery, considering the way she tossed money about on everything else. Victor had the suspicion that Tiggens was part of some sort of new inmate-release program from the local penitentiary. It would explain a lot.

"Yes, ma'am?" Tiggens asked. Nell folded her arms across her chest, tapped her foot, and scowled. "Er, I mean...milady?" Victor rolled his eyes. His mother _would _demand that her legion of servants address her as a titled woman, whether she had a title or not.

Satisfied, Nell said in her most genteel and stuffy manner, "Please show Mr. and Mrs. Van Dort to the door, Tiggens."

Tiggens paused, looking confused. He glanced back and forth from Victor and Victoria to Nell and William. Catching on to the problem, Nell heaved an irritated sigh and snapped,

"My son and his wife, you dolt!"

"Ah, of course, ma...milady." Victor and Victoria joined Tiggens in the doorway, said a final goodbye to Victor's parents, and the three of them moved out into the entry hall. Victor noticed that the butler seemed a bit too eager to grab Victoria's elbow and guide her to the door, so he quickly stepped between them. Tiggens looked disappointed. He looked even more disappointed when Victor insisted on helping Victoria on with her wrap himself.

Finally Victor and Victoria made it out into the street, where their carriage was waiting. After handing Victoria in, Victor looked up at the driver, Mr. Reed.

Mr. Reed was the older gentleman who served as Victor and Victoria's driver and general male servant. His wife, Mrs. Reed, was the cook and housekeeper. Neither Victor nor Victoria had any desire to employ a large staff, so they more than happily made do with the amiable Reeds. Besides, not a lot of people were willing to work for Victor and Victoria--the two of them had something of a reputation in the village as, to put it mildly, a couple of odd ducks. This reputation grew, of course, from Victor's semi-marriage to a dead woman and the mysterious sudden death of Victoria's first husband. It didn't matter, though. People treated them civilly enough to their faces, out of consideration for who their parents were. And Mr. and Mrs. Reed didn't seem to care one way or another what was said about their employers--in fact, they'd only moved to the village last year, looking for work. Victor had hired them immediately. The four of them got along famously. The Reeds had become, in some sense, less like servants than sort of surrogate parents for Victor and Victoria. In fact, it had been Mrs. Reed who'd been the one to realize that Victoria was pregnant. Victor had gone out that very afternoon to buy the housekeeper a floral arrangement.

"The Everglots', please," Victor said. Reed tipped his hat by way of answer, and Victor climbed into the carriage and sat next to Victoria. As soon as they were settled, Victor tapped on the carriage roof, and they were off.

"That went well," Victoria remarked, grabbing the edge of the seat for balance as the carriage jolted pulling away from the curb. Victor looked at her. Was she being facetious? No, she looked sincere enough. Still, Victor sighed, and said,

"Victoria, I'd like to apologize for my mother. She..." But Victoria stopped him with a small wave of her hand.

"You needn't apologize, Victor. After all, it's been three years. I'm rather used to her now."

"Really?" Victor asked. He thought for a moment. "Would you mind telling me your secret? I've known her for twenty-two years, and I'm _still _not used to her."

Victoria laughed, and Victor joined in. Yet he was really only half-joking. He truly didn't understand how Victoria could manage to be in the same room with his mother for more than ten minutes. They were so different. And Nell Van Dort was certainly the diametric opposite of Victoria's mother when it came to deportment. Perhaps, Victor supposed, Victoria preferred any change of pace after living with Maudeline Everglot. He, for one, was terrified of the woman. How Victoria had turned out as pleasantly as she had with such parents was a mystery, but Victor was glad of it.

"Well in any case, I appreciate your making an effort with her," Victor said. "What did the two of you talk about while Father and I were in the study before tea?"

"Oh, this and that. Just chatting, really," Victoria answered. She smiled, and turned to Victor, eyes twinkling. "Is it really true that you were frightened of turtles when you were little?"

"How in the world did _that _come up?"

"Victor, I'm sure I couldn't possibly explain how your mother's mind works. One moment she was telling me about a new dress she was having made, and then she was talking about turtles," Victoria replied, obviously trying to contain her laughter. She pressed her fingers to her mouth and took a deep breath through her nose.

"Oh, don't hold back on my account, Victoria," Victor said, trying not to smile. "Laugh at me. I don't mind in the least."

And so she did. Victoria had an odd way of laughing, probably because she'd been discouraged from making any kind of unladylike noise for most of her life. She never laughed quite out loud, but kept her hand clasped over her mouth as she made odd squeaking noises in her throat. The sound always made Victor laugh as well. Quietly, though, so as not to draw too much attention to himself.

Finally Victoria took another deep breath, cleared her throat, and folded her hands in her lap.

"Please forgive me, Victor," she said, turning toward him. "That was terribly rude of me." Her eyes, though, were still dancing with suppressed amusement. Victor took her hand in his and smiled.

"No offense taken," he assured her. They were quiet for a moment, each of them looking out the windows of the carriage. Then Victoria looked at him sideways, and said quietly,

"But Victor, really--_turtles_?"

"I beg your pardon, but it's...well, it's..._unsettling_, the way they can pull their heads and legs into their shells. And besides, they bite, you know."

"Oh, Victor, they do not."

"Snapping turtles do," Victor said wisely. He held up his left hand and showed Victoria the small scar that ran along the base of his thumb. "The first turtle I ever met just happened to be a snapping turtle. I was seven, and I never went near the garden pond again."

"You poor thing. Your mother didn't mention that," Victoria said, looking at the scar. "I suppose you're justified in being frightened of turtles, then."

"Victoria, I am not afraid of turtles."

"Of course you're not."

"I just find them unsettling, as I said."

"Yes, I see the difference."

They were both quiet for a moment. _We really do have some strange conversations, _Victor thought to himself. _Maybe that's what happens when you're with someone for a long time._ Just last week, burned toast at teatime had somehow led to a very in-depth discussion of arsenic poisoning. Victor still wasn't sure how that had happened. Poison and turtles probably weren't the most traditionally romantic of topics, but Victor loved these odd conversations all the same. He knew Victoria did as well. Victor wondered how often they'd have opportunities to converse like this after the baby arrived. Conversational habits, though, were probably only one item on a long list of things that would change in his and Victoria's lives after the arrival of a new Van Dort. Still, the baby hadn't arrived _yet_, so Victor decided to make the most of the opportunity for odd talks while he could.

"Well, before you start thinking me completely silly, Victoria," he said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, "I should point out that _you're _afraid of those Venus fly-trap plants," Victor couldn't help but chuckle a little when he felt Victoria shudder.

"Of course I'm afraid of them," she replied. "Victor, they're _plants_ with _teeth_. Any plant that can physically _eat _an insect is just...it's..." she trailed off, trying to find the right word. Victor knew just the one.

"Unsettling?" he supplied.

"Yes, exactly," Victoria replied with a smile.

Their conversation was cut short as the carriage jolted to a stop in front of the Everglot mansion. Victor threw his arm in front of Victoria to keep her from pitching forward. In doing so he overbalanced himself, the momentum causing him to slide off the seat. He landed rather hard on his knees on the carriage floor. He'd have to talk to Mr. Reed about these jack-rabbit starts and stops, now that Victoria was in a delicate condition.

"Are you all right?" Victor asked, pulling himself back onto the seat.

"Yes, yes," Victoria said. Then she looked out of the carriage window at her childhood home. "Actually, no," she amended, gazing at the house. Victor patted her hand.

"Don't worry, everything will go very well, I think. I'm sure your parents will be...er...thrilled," Victor said lamely. "Thrilled" was an emotion that Victor doubted the Everglots felt very often, if ever. But nevertheless, it _was _only fair to deliver their big news in person, however much Victor would have preferred sending a telegram. Actually, Victor was rather surprised that the town crier hadn't somehow latched onto the news of the latest edition to the Van Dort clan. Doubtless the entire village would know by sundown.

Mr. Reed appeared at the carriage door and pulled it open. Victor watched as Victoria took a deep breath, and then nodded. With that, the two of them climbed out of the carriage and stood on the cobblestones, gazing at the huge front door.

"Why in the world am I so nervous about this?" Victoria asked, taking Victor's arm. Victor took a moment to decide whether or not the question was rhetorical. Finally he replied,

"The sooner we go in, the sooner we can leave, Victoria. Though we still have time to get back in the carriage and go home, if you're that bothered." As soon as the words left his mouth, Mr. Reed pulled the carriage away from the curb and was circling to the back of the house. "Never mind," Victor said, watching the carriage disappear around the corner.

"We'd best get this over with," Victoria said. "I do hope they at least _pretend_ to be happy for us."

Victor nodded. He hoped so, as well. One would think that the prospect of grandchildren would be terribly exciting--but if the reactions of Victor's parents were anything to judge by, children were apparently not very big news.

As the two of them walked up the steps toward the front door, Victor patted Victoria's hand again, attempting to be reassuring. For her sake, he hoped that _this _visit would go a bit better than the last. After all, it seemed to make sense that a woman would need the most support from her mother when she was in the family way. Though, Victor realized, Lady Everglot was hardly the supportive type.

_Oh well_, Victor thought as he rang the doorbell. _I'm here, anyway. I can be a help, I'm sure._ He turned and gave Victoria a smile, and he was rather relieved when she returned it. There was a bit of a glint in her eye, however. It was the glint that had developed over the past couple of years whenever Victoria was steeling herself for a visit with her parents. She put a hand on her stomach and took a few deep breaths.

"Are you certain you're all right, Victoria?" Victor asked. He was rather concerned. A visit to her parents had never made Victoria hyperventilate before. But she waved his question off.

"Yes, I'm fine," Victoria said. She stood up a little straighter, and her expression took on a determined air as the door swung open in front of them.


	2. Notifying the Grandparents 2

II. The Everglots, Part 1

The door swung open, and standing in the doorway was the Everglots' butler, Emile. Looking as stuffy and condescending as ever, too. He'd left that night three years ago when the dead walked in the square, but had come running back as soon as Victoria's parents started receiving their hefty monthly allowance from Van Dort's Fish. Being better paid evidently didn't do much for his demeanor.

Emile regarded Victor and Victoria down the length of his nose. Nobody said anything. Victor couldn't recall how it had started, but somehow this kind of drawn-out awkward pause had become a bit of a ritual whenever the two of them visited Finis and Maudeline. Perhaps it made Emile feel good about himself to lord it over "Mr. and Mrs." Van Dort whenever they came to call. _If I were titled_, Victor thought for what felt like the thousandth time, _this would definitely not happen._ But it really didn't matter. Victor just didn't enjoy silent battles of wills very much. Victoria seemed to weather it better than he did.

As the pause stopped being merely drawn-out and became ridiculous, Victoria finally said, "Good afternoon, Emile. Are my parents in?" She was using what Victor liked to call her "respectable voice"--the one that made her sound every inch a woman who'd grown up with a title.

"Yes, indeed. They're expecting you," the butler answered, moving aside so that they could enter. As they crossed the threshold into the dark gloom of the entry, Victor and Victoria shared a confused look.

"Expecting us?" Victor asked. "But how? We didn't tell them we were coming. Er, did we?" He directed this last question to an equally confused-looking Victoria.

"I believe Mrs. Van Dort telephoned ahead," Emile replied, taking Victoria's wrap and Victor's coat and hanging them on the coat rack.

"You did? When?" Victor asked Victoria, perplexed. He thought for a moment. "But we don't have a telephone--" Emile cut Victor off with a haughty sniff.

"The _elder _Mrs. Van Dort, sir," he explained, sounding as though he would have liked nothing more than to replace "sir" with "moron." Ignoring the looks on Victor and Victoria's faces, he started across the entry. "If you'll follow me. Lord and Lady Everglot are waiting in the west drawing room."

"Your mother certainly works quickly, doesn't she?" Victoria said in a whisper as they followed Emile toward the drawing room.

"I know," Victor whispered back. "We only left there ten minutes ago." He took Victoria's hand and placed it in the crook of his arm as they walked. "And when did your parents get a telephone, anyway?"

"I haven't any idea...I wonder how much she told them?"

"Victoria, it's my mother we're talking about. She probably told them everything we told her, plus tomorrow's weather forecast."

"I can't decide whether to be annoyed or not. It's _our _news, and yet..."

"Yet?"

"I'll be terribly relieved if I don't have to tell my mother myself. I'd probably blush and stammer and not be able to get a word out."

"Now, now, no good taking my job away from me, Victoria. If you begin blushing and stammering, I won't seem..._original _anymore."

"Hmm...Have I told you lately how funny you are?"

"Do I detect a bit of sarcasm, my love?"

"Only a bit, darling."

"A_hem_!" Emile cleared his throat obnoxiously, startling Victor and Victoria out of their whispered conversation. Victor looked up and saw that the butler was already standing at the closed door of the drawing room. The two of them had lagged behind considerably while they were talking, and they quickened their pace a bit to catch up to Emile.

"Do wait here, I'll announce you," Emile said. Victor felt Victoria's fingers dig into his arm. She was obviously getting quite annoyed.

"Announce us? You just said that they knew we were coming," Victoria said. Yes, she definitely was annoyed. Victor looked down at her to see that her eyelids were dropped almost all the way down, nearly turning her eyes to slits. That was always a definite tell as to when Victoria was irritated, Victor had learned. Over the three years that they'd been married, Victoria's patience with her family had waned so much that by now it was almost non-existent. Moreover, neither of them had quite forgiven Victoria's parents for what had become known as the "Barkis Incident." Still, Victor knew that it was usually better to just let Victoria deal with both Emile and her parents, considering how he always managed to louse things up grandly whenever he got within ten feet of the Everglots. They just put him on edge so badly...No matter how long he and Victoria were married, he'd probably _never _get used to them. So keeping to form, Victor kept quiet as he glanced nervously back and forth between Victoria and the butler.

Emile held his nose higher in the air than usual. "Protocol insists that I announce all visitors. Granted, it _has _been quite some time since you were in polite company--" Victor winced as Victoria squeezed his arm even more tightly--"but I trust you haven't forgotten the way that polite society operates," Emile finished with a sniff.

"No, I have not forgotten," Victoria replied, her tone icy. "Now if you will please show us in, Emile."

Had Victor been the butler, and had Victoria spoken that way to him, he would have jumped immediately to do whatever she said. One did not argue with Victoria when she used that tone. Luckily, she didn't use it very often, and she practically never used it toward Victor. Well, except for last Christmas, when Victor had insisted on cutting down a Christmas tree himself..._that _had been quite the episode. In any case, Emile obviously wasn't used to taking orders of any kind from Victoria. So he merely asked, in a voice dripping with phony politeness,

"Have you a calling card that I may present to Lord and Lady Everglot?"

Victor, quite put off his guard from this thinly veiled sparring contest, immediately put his hand to his waistcoat pocket. Of course there were no cards there. He was just about to mumble an apology--_anything _to put a stop to the icy glaring going on between Victoria and Emile--when Victoria cut him off.

"No, we do not have a card," she said quietly through clenched teeth. "They are my _parents. _I believe they know who we are."

Emile gave a very dainty shrug. "Of course...However, as of course you know, calling cards are accepted as the rule in _polite _company." As he said this last, Emile shot Victor a glance. Victor bristled just slightly. He didn't want to give the butler the satisfaction of allowing himself to be offended by that barb. Victor knew exactly what the Everglots thought of him and his family background--or lack thereof. It shouldn't matter. Victoria didn't care, and neither did he. Still, Victor felt he shouldn't have to hear about it every single time he set foot in his in-laws' house. He was distracted from thinking about it further when he realized that he couldn't feel his left hand anymore. Victoria had his arm in a death-grip, holding on hard enough for Victor to feel her fingernails digging into his arm right through his coat and shirt.

"Nevertheless, we do not have a card, we are expected guests, apparently, and I refuse to stand here and argue with you further," Victoria said, who had obviously had enough. "And I will thank you not to insult my husband, either."

Oh good, so it wasn't just him--Victoria had caught the butler's glance as well. Victor felt a bit better. Though he wished Victoria wouldn't upset herself. It really didn't seem worth it.

When Emile didn't respond, Victoria pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes. "Are you going to see us into the drawing room, or will we have to go in ourselves unannounced?"

The butler seemed scandalized. He seemed to realize that Victoria really would just wrench the door open herself and enter the room, proper or not. Some tiny, slightly malicious part of Victor would actually have loved to see the looks on the Everglots' faces if Victoria barged into their drawing room unannounced, throwing order and propriety to the winds. Then again, the fallout that would occur afterward would probably be less entertaining.

Emile turned away from them and opened the door. Victor looked down at Victoria to see that she had a very self-satisfied smile on her face. If Victor didn't know her better, he might have called it a smirk. She'd won. Victoria loosened her grip on his arm, for which he was extremely grateful. Victor shook his head slightly. A quarrel among the nobility was _weird_. In the Van Dort family, people generally shouted and threw the occasional plate, and then it was forgotten. With Victoria's family, even when the argument was between a married daughter and a servant, things were always very restrained. It took a lot of practice to realize that a quarrel was happening at all.

"Are you all right?" Victor whispered out of the corner of his mouth as the two of them stood behind the butler.

"Of course, why shouldn't I be?" Victoria whispered back. Then she paused a moment before she said, "I was squeezing your arm again, wasn't I?"

"Yes...I could feel your fingernails."

"Through your coat? Victor, I'm sorry, I--"

"It doesn't matter," Victor interrupted quickly, knowing that he had very little time before they'd be announced to the Everglots. Still speaking in a whisper, he said, "Victoria, you shouldn't get so upset. Especially now, considering...you know." He made a vague gesture toward her stomach. "Remember what Mrs. Reed said. It's not good for you to be upset."

Victoria squeezed his arm again, this time affectionately. "Yes, I know. I'll try not to let them upset me." She sighed gently. "It's very difficult, though..._you _know that."

"I do...But I'm here with you."

"Yes, I--"

"Mr. and Mrs. Van Dort are here to see you, your lord- and ladyship," Emile announced into the drawing room. Victor and Victoria looked at one another and took a simultaneous deep breath. Hidden from their sight, they both heard Maudeline say,

"They're here? I was just forced to speak to the woman on the telephone. I shouldn't have to see her in person for at least six months."

"Your daughter and her husband, milady."

"Why didn't you say that, then? Bring them in."

Emile stood aside, and, after hesitating for just a moment, Victor and Victoria entered the drawing room.

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**Author's Note: **This little scene with Emile is almost completely pointless, but I can't quite bring myself to get rid of it. I have a feeling it will come in handy later. Besides, Victoria and Emile just wouldn't stop--they seemed to really want to have this little argument. Perhaps I'll go back and edit later, since I really want to get into the scene with Maudeline and Finis. I think this scene will be useful as set-up--should I keep it or lose it? Although, that question might be easier to answer once I get "The Everglots: Part 2" finished. Please let me know what you think. As much as I like this scene, it's probably not necessary. Thanks.


	3. Two Astounding Displays

III. The Everglots, Part 2

"After you," Victor said, stepping back to let Victoria enter ahead of him. The look she gave him wasn't exactly a grateful one as she stepped into the room and inclined her head at her parents. Victor fell into place at her side, though slightly behind her, and regarded his in-laws.

Finis was propped up on that ridiculously high chair of his. Instead of serving as a distraction from the height difference between himself and his wife, the strange chair simply made it all the more obvious. Maudeline was on her usual perch, a regal armchair right next to the fireplace. The drawing room itself--with several mirrors in gilt frames, stately chairs and sofas that had the air of being for show and not for sitting on, a rich-looking carpet with matching draperies, and an absolutely enormous mahogany sideboard--showed off the Everglot wealth. Or, more precisely, the Van Dort wealth. That is, if one were inclined to quibble about such things. Which Victor was, when he wasn't feeling particularly charitable.

The atmosphere in the drawing room was distinctly uncomfortable. As usual, Victor and Victoria were both being received with definite frostiness. Neither Finis nor Maudeline bothered to return Victoria's little greeting. The silence started to stretch--again with the wordless battles of the aristocracy. It was Maudeline's prerogative as lady of the house to keep visitors (be they relatives or not), standing uncomfortably in her drawing room for as long as she wished. For Victor or Victoria, as visitors, to break the silence would be unthinkable (Victor'd learned _that_ little rule the hard way). Pointedly, Maudeline took a completely unperturbed sip of her tea, while Finis glared rather moodily into the middle distance. Victor, for lack of anything else to do, amused himself by trying to guess what sort of animal had donated those enormous antlers that were mounted on the far wall.

"You can leave, Emile," Finis said, making a shooing motion with his hand. Emile nodded curtly and scurried back to the door, closing it behind him with a snap. As soon as the butler was gone, Maudeline set her teacup down on a convenient end table.

"Do sit down," she said, gesturing at the sofa across from herself and her husband. "I'll ring the maid to bring in more tea." Her tone suggested that tea was merely being offered as a formality. Furthermore, were Victor and Victoria to accept said tea, they were sad, pathetic people who couldn't be bothered to hire enough help or to care enough about their social standing to invite others over for tea at their own house. Victor admittedly only had half an ear on the conversation, but that's what he read into what Maudeline said.

"Thank you, Mother, but we had our teatime with Victor's parents. We wouldn't want to impose," Victoria replied in an even, polite tone. Meaning, Victor was pretty sure, that Victoria would like nothing more than to tell her mother in very certain terms exactly what she could do with her invitation for tea. Again, though, Victor wasn't really paying strict attention, so he could have been wrong.

"Do we, Victor?" Victoria asked, turning to him. Her voice took a moment to register.

"Elk, I think," Victor said absently. After a second he was aware that everyone was staring at him, Maudeline and Finis with narrowed eyes. Feeling a faint blush starting to rise on his cheekbones, Victor scuffled his feet a bit. "Er, I mean, no. Of course not," he said to the floor.

"Very well, then," Maudeline replied. "Do sit." Again she stabbed her hand imperiously at the sofa. Head held high, Victoria walked over and sat on the very edge of the sofa. Victor followed, and tried not to slide on the slippery horsehair as he sat down. Out of habit he allowed himself to hunch forward a bit, elbows on his knees. It wasn't until Victoria gave him a gentle nudge that he realized he should probably be sitting up straight. So he sat as tall as he could, trying to look like Mr. Van Dort, the Son-In-Law.

Though posture didn't help much in attempting to convey that image, if the looks on his in-laws' faces were anything to judge by. To them, he would always be a lanky ninny from the wrong side of the town's walls who blushed and jabbered about elks whenever anyone spoke to him. That, or just a faceless bank account. Again Victor had to wonder why he cared. He had no idea. But he did. _Let's just get this over with, _he thought. _Then we can go home, where it's normal--where we're a good two miles from anybody else._ The thought of going back home with Victoria and her little passenger was a heartening one. He could get through this--Victoria'd managed to spend two hours with _his _parents without complaint, after all.

"Well," Victor began, in as bright a voice as he could manage. He even went so far as to give Maudeline and Finis a big smile. A smile that, soon enough, faltered under the icy looks that his in-laws were giving him. _Why, why didn't we just send a telegram..._Clearing his throat, Victor tried not to let his discomfort show.

"Victoria and I have news for you. You see..." At that, he turned to Victoria with another smile, this time a proud one. He couldn't help it, just as Victoria couldn't help returning it. Even under these circumstances, the thought of being parents made them both just slightly giddy. And Victor was undeniably happy. Which of course couldn't be tolerated in Maudeline's drawing room. As though to prove it, Maudeline cut Victor off with another imperious wave of her hand.

"Yes, yes, we know all about it," Maudeline said. "Your mother let us know. Why she felt the _need _to, however, is completely beyond me." She looked at Victor as though _he'd _given Nell a telephone--with explicit instructions to ring up the Everglots as frequently as possible.

"Oh," Victor replied. Somehow, that didn't seem like enough of an answer. So Victor decided, wondering what had happened to his determination to let Victoria do the talking, to do what he did best--ramble.

"So then, you know already...Er yes--by the beginning of October, it seems...We're--Victoria and I, of course--are very happy, really _very _much looking forward to a child...and, well...that's our news." When no response was offered, Victor scratched the back of his neck and looked over at Victoria. That was really all he had. So Victoria took over, speaking quickly.

"We thought we'd let you know...er, though Victor's mother has beaten us to it...Still, though, we both wanted you to know that we're--well, _I'm_--expecting a child, and that...we're very happy about it," Victoria finished lamely. Victor was a bit surprised by how...well, _Victor-ish _she sounded. Evidently he had taught her some bad conversational habits over the past three years. At a loss, Victor and Victoria shared a slightly desperate look before turning back to Finis and Maudeline, who were both wearing completely impassive expressions. Again, no congratulations or handshakes or embraces--not even an acknowledging nod. Honestly. Didn't _anybody _besides Victor and Victoria care?

Apparently not, because Finis picked up the conversation from Maudeline's last comment, as though neither of them had said a word. "She probably just wants to be able to say that she had a telephone conversation with an Everglot. Upstarts, those Van Dorts..." he grumbled into his teacup. Victor felt Victoria tense up next to him.

"Well really, though, what do you expect from people with no breeding?" Maudeline asked in return. It was as though Victor and Victoria weren't even in the room. "Besides," Maudeline continued, lifting her teacup again, "if the woman feels she _must _speak to an Everglot, why doesn't she bother Victoria instead of me?"

"We don't have a telephone," Victor said helpfully. Victoria shot him a look, and then turned to her mother.

"I'm a Van Dort now, Mother," she pointed out. "And my son or daughter will be one, as well. And be _proud _to be one." Victor was warmed by that comment, even though he doubted how sincere it was. Really, who would want to be a Van Dort? Even Van Dorts didn't really want to be Van Dorts. Regardless, it was a nice sentiment, and Victor couldn't help smiling a little.

Victoria's words seemed to be just the thing to re-announce her and Victor's presence. Maudeline appeared to be restraining herself from rolling her eyes. Finis, on the other hand, had gone back to his moody staring, drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair. Finally Victoria's nerve faltered, and she looked down at the floor. Her jaw was still set, however, and she was sitting as though she had an iron pole down her back instead of a spine. Victor let himself hunch forward again. At this point, who cared?

Then, quite out of the blue, Maudeline practically barked, "Well, don't just sit there staring at the carpet, Victoria. Are you ill at all? Do you need anything?" Victor watched as Victoria looked up, her mouth hanging open in surprise. Even though Maudeline's tone had given the distinct impression that the answers to those questions should be "No" and "Nothing at all," the point was that she'd asked. Coldly, dismissively, and almost detached, but she'd asked. Victor was floored. Positively floored.

"Er..." Victoria seemed to be just as stunned as Victor. After a moment she managed to collect herself, and she said, sounding almost touched, "No, thank you, Mother--we don't need anything at the moment. And I'm not ill at all. Er, thank you for asking."

Victor kept his mouth shut out of consideration for how much this starkly out of character show of semi-concern on Maudeline's part obviously meant to Victoria, but the fact was that Victoria had just told a bit of a fib. "Not ill at all" indeed--she'd spent most of her time during the past month or so dreadfully sick to her stomach (which apparently was normal, according to Mrs. Reed, though Victor couldn't quite imagine why). In fact, she'd been sick that very morning. Of course, that really wasn't the sort of thing that one went about discussing freely.

Maudeline nodded curtly, apparently satisfied. "Congratulations then, I suppose." She looked sideways at Finis, who was shifting rather uncomfortably in his chair. Obviously this was a not a topic he was at ease with. "Congratulate them, Finis," Maudeline said. Finis tapped his fingers against his armrest a few times before he cleared his throat and said through clenched teeth,

"Yes, congratulations. We're _ever _so happy for you both." That last came out in a very strained tone of voice, as though Finis's vocal chords were seizing up in protest against being pleasant.

"Thank you," Victoria said, allowing herself a tiny smile at her parents. It was rewarded with an icy glare from her mother, and Victoria quickly looked down at the floor again.

"Yes, thank you," Victor added. He was still a bit dazed by this visit. Who would have thought that Maudeline actually...well, _cared_? Er, sort of? Victor found himself feeling especially happy for Victoria, even as he realized that this was probably a once-in-a-lifetime show of maternal concern. But he was sure that Victoria could live with that much, if the pleased look on her face was an indication.

"I don't think I need to bother calling Emile to show you out," Maudeline said, dismissing them bluntly.

Finis looked at her. "Why not? What are you talking about--he's the butler, that's his job."

Maudeline waved her hand dismissively. "I'm merely acknowledging the fact that our daughter and her husband prefer to conduct themselves as would a middle-class clerk and his wife," she explained with a quite audible sniff. "Butlers are a bit much for that sort, don't you agree?"

Victor shook his head. Maudeline lost no time making up for her earlier show of semi-pleasantness. She and Finis both very much enjoyed calling Victor and Victoria "middle-class," since their house was modest, they only had two servants, and they actually liked one another. The insult sort of lost its impact after two years of almost continuous delivery, though, so Victor and Victoria merely stood up without acknowledging that they'd heard what Maudeline had said.

"Well then," Victoria said, taking Victor's arm. "Goodbye." Victor raised his hand as a farewell, and the two of them turned and walked out of the drawing room.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, they both paused, staring at one another.

"Could you _believe_ that?" Victor asked, still feeling incredulous. He shook his head again and stared at the closed door.

"Oh, you know Mother says things like that. I'm not excusing her, but...Well, don't let your feelings be hurt, dear," Victoria said, patting his arm.

"No, that wasn't what I meant," Victor replied. "Your mother, she was..._pleasant_, there for a second or two. Almost."

Victoria nodded. "Strange, wasn't it? I almost fainted." She too looked at the door for a moment, as though thinking. "Why don't we go home?" Victoria said, taking his arm again.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Victor said. "And you're sure your mother didn't upset you at all?" it suddenly occurred to him to ask.

"Not any more than usual," was the reply. Victor knew that however irritated Victoria might have been with her mother, that fleeting display in the drawing room had made up for rather a lot.

The two of them crossed the mammoth entry in thoughtful silence, their footsteps echoing in the gloom. Then, suddenly, Victoria took several deep breaths. Victor looked down at her to see that she had a hand on her stomach again.

"Victoria, are you _certain_ you're all right?" he asked in a low voice. He didn't want the question to echo back and be heard in the drawing room. Or by Emile, who was already at his post by the front door. Victoria nodded without looking at him.

"Yes, I'm certain," she answered, sounding anything but. "Can we hurry, please?" She immediately quickened her step, and Victor had to trot a few paces to catch up with her. He wasn't sure why she wanted to rush.

Emile held out Victoria's wrap, which she took wordlessly without waiting for Victor to help her. She really was in a hurry. He took his own overcoat from the butler and pulled it on. Victor kept an eye on Victoria as he did so. She looked...well, not very good. Had the conversation in the drawing room upset her more than she'd been willing to admit? No, he decided. She would have told him when he'd asked--her bravado didn't stretch all that far. Victor thought back. Come to think of it, she'd had that same look right before they'd entered the house. She'd attributed it to nerves, and he'd believed her. But now he noticed that Victoria looked particularly...green. Yes, that was it. Green.

Oh no.

Victor realized what was going to happen about two seconds before it did. He reached out and put a hand on Victoria's shoulder, meaning to lead her outside as quickly as possible. He didn't make it. At that very moment, Victoria turned and vomited spectacularly all over Emile's shoes.

There was a very long pause. Victor covered his mouth with his hand. _How terrible, _he thought. _And yet, oddly fantastic at the same time._ After a moment Victor pulled himself together enough to rub Victoria's shoulder as he pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket.

"Oh, Victoria..." he said sympathetically, handing her the handkerchief. She nodded her thanks and then set about wiping her mouth, being as ladylike as she could under the circumstances.

"I am...I'm sorry," Victoria mumbled into the handkerchief. She was blushing just the slightest bit. Emile was just stood there, looking shocked as he stared at his feet.

Quietly, slowly, Victor pulled open the door himself and helped Victoria out. As soon as she was on the front steps, he slowly backed out the door. Before pulling the door shut, Victor peered around it at Emile. The butler still hadn't moved, his mouth seemingly frozen in gaping surprise.

Victor looked at Emile, then at the puddle of sick that Emile was standing in. Finally he swallowed, feeling faintly ill himself.

"Er...Have a nice day," Victor said, as politely and sweetly as he could. With that, he quietly closed the door.


	4. Moonlight

IV. Four Months

The moonlight was terribly bright, and Victor was having a hard time getting to sleep. Still, he couldn't quite bring himself to pull the curtains shut. While the light was somewhat irritating, it was also quite beautiful.

Victoria seemed to be just as awake as he was. The two of them lay side by side in Victoria's bed, staring up at the bed canopy. Victor had his own room, of course, but it was only rarely that he actually used it. Both of them preferred sharing a room. Nice as it was, though, sharing _did _have its inconveniences. Since Victoria liked getting up much earlier than Victor did, he'd often wake up at the same time as her, and then stumble groggily to his own room to get another couple hours of sleep. Likewise Victor, on average, stayed up a lot later than Victoria--usually she'd just give up and go to bed, and eventually Victor would join her (which was why, Victor figured, the two of them wound up in Victoria's room so often). For all that, the system seemed to work well. Besides, nobody had to know that they shared a room, and that the separate sleeping quarters were mainly for show.

It was rather late, and Victor was awfully tired. But for whatever reason, he was having one of those nights where it was impossible to shut his brain off in order to sleep. From the way Victoria kept tugging and adjusting the blankets, occasionally sighing, he could tell that she was having the same problem.

"The moonlight is very pretty, isn't it?" Victoria said, her voice low. Victor nodded.

"Yes, it is...Rather bright, though," he replied. "Should we pull the curtains?"

"We could...but I don't really want to get up."

"I don't either, now that you mention it."

They were both speaking in a languid, sleepy sort of tone. Really, in Victor's opinion, evenings didn't get all that much better than this--just lying there next to Victoria, enjoying the closeness and the occasional sleepy conversation.

"You know what I read once?" Victor asked through a yawn. He adjusted his pillow and turned his head to look at Victoria.

"No, what did you read?"

"That sleeping in the moonlight can make you go mad."

"Really?"

"Well, that's what I read."

"Interesting...Is it just _sleeping _in the moonlight that makes you go mad, or can you go mad from just _being _in the moonlight?"

"I don't recall whether or not that was specified. All I remember was that the book said that sleeping in the moonlight could cause madness."

"Hmm."

"Yes. It's called 'moon madness.'"

"That makes sense," Victoria replied, a smile in her voice. Then, as if struck by an idea, she asked, "Do you suppose that's where the term 'lunatic' comes from?"

"How do you mean?"

"You know. 'Luna' means 'moon,' and 'atic' is...er..."

"Where old boxes are kept?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Um...you know, 'attic'...because...crazy people have lots of old belongings in their attics." Victoria finally turned her head. Given the bright moonlight coming through the window, Victor could plainly see that she was cocking her eyebrow at him.

"Crazy people keep more things in their attics than sane people?"

Victor shrugged. "I don't know," he replied. "It seems likely though, doesn't it?"

"Whatever you say," Victoria said, turning again to stare up into the darkness. Victor did the same. After thinking about it a bit more, he said,

"I thought that 'lunatic' had something to do with loons."

"Why would you think that?"

"Well...'lunatic,' 'crazy as a loon'...Are loons particularly crazy?"

"I haven't any idea. I've never met a loon."

"Nor I. But you know of them?"

"Well, yes...If I didn't, I wouldn't know what you were talking about. Actually," Victoria said, pulling the covers closer around her, "I'm not sure what you're talking about anyway."

"Loons," Victor replied. "And whether or not they're a type of bird that's inclined toward insanity."

"Ah."

"Yes. How would you go about measuring how crazy a bird is, anyway?"

"Well, obviously one couldn't use the same standards as one does for a person."

"Obviously."

"Hmm...I really don't know, Victor."

A comfortable, pre-sleep sort of silence settled over them. Victor stared up into the darkness, and after a few moments his eyelids began to droop. Then Victoria said in a low voice,

"No wonder everyone thinks we're...odd. We are sort of odd." Victor opened his eyes and looked over at her. Victoria was looking at him through lidded eyes, apparently ready to fall asleep.

"Are we?" Victor asked. Victoria gave a little laugh.

"Well, look at us. We lie in bed together talking about whether or not loons are insane." She reached over and took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together.

"And yesterday afternoon," Victoria continued, "we spent two hours reading the _dictionary _together." Victor smiled.

"Only because we'd been arguing about what 'cumbersome' meant." He gave her hand a squeeze. "It just sort of...snowballed from there."

"And as it turned out, we were both right."

"Though _my _definition was the more widely accepted one," Victor couldn't help adding.

"Did you notice that we've been invited to the Glottbergs' anniversary party?" Victoria asked, changing the subject.

Victor had to stifle a yawn before he answered, "Yes, I saw the invitation on the hall table...Whose turn is it to be too ill to attend?"

For the past year or so, Victor and Victoria had been practically inundated with invitations to various functions. Most of those invitations were Victor's mother's doing--she very much wanted _all _of the Van Dorts to be seen mingling with the elite. Out of politeness and a desire to keep family peace, they'd always agreed to attend at first. Soon enough, though, the socializing had begun to wear on both of them. Victor was extremely glad that Victoria had turned out to be, like him, the type who preferred staying quite out of the way of large groups of people. Both of them, given the option, would spend quiet evenings with just one another at home rather than parade around for a society get-together.

However, neither of them liked to be rude. Or to say "no" all that often. Victor had toyed with the idea of writing _"No thank you, we hate parties. And we're not too fond of you, either. Kindly lose our address and leave us alone. Sincerely Yours, Mr. and Mrs. Victor Van Dort"_ on every single R.S.V.P. card, but had given it up as much too impolite. Truthful and to the point, but terribly rude. So, Victor and Victoria had simply both began to get mysteriously ill every time a party was thrown. They took it in turns. Victoria usually opted for the vague yet ladylike "terribly tired, and a headache that simply won't go away," but Victor liked to be a bit more creative. He liked to choose the most horrible-sounding illnesses he could, even if he didn't know quite what they were. The only time Victoria minded was when it caused a village panic--such as when Victor had, without thinking, told everyone that he was suffering from a particularly nasty case of yellow fever. Since then, the new rule was that Victor run his excuse by Victoria for approval before sending it off.

"Mine, I think," Victoria said. "Remember? The last invitation we received was from the Glottbergs as well. You told them..." She had to stop for a moment to swallow her laughter, and the effort made her voice hitch a little as she continued, "You--you t-told them on the R.S.V.P. card, 'My apologies, my wife and I cannot attend. We both...both have just a touch of leprosy.'" Victoria couldn't help it anymore, and she started to laugh. "And _then _you added, 'but I'm sure we'll--'"

"'Sure we'll be perfectly fine by Monday,'" Victor finished with a laugh. "I remember that. I'm glad you caught me before I sent that one off."

"Tell me again what you thought leprosy was."

"Oh, Victoria..."

"No, really. I'd like to hear it again."

Victor cleared his throat quietly, blushing just a bit at the memory. "I was under the impression that leprosy was just a fancy name for stomach upset," he admitted. The mattress shook a little from Victoria's suppressed laughter.

"I _still _don't understand how you came up with that," she said affectionately, the laugh still very present in her voice.

"I'm not sure, but it made sense at the time. I suppose, to fully understand, you have to be in here," Victor replied, tapping the side of his head.

"I love you, Victor."

"I love you, too. Even when you laugh at me."

"Just imagine if you _had _sent off that excuse," Victoria said. "Not only would everyone think us odd, they'd..."

"Think we're diseased," Victor finished. He glanced over at Victoria again. As soon as they made eye contact, they couldn't help laughing quietly. It took a moment or two for them to collect themselves. When they finally managed to calm down a bit, Victor reached out and placed his hand on Victoria's now slightly rounded middle.

"You have very strange parents, little Van Dort," he said, giving Victoria's abdomen a pat. "Once you're here, we can be a trio of oddballs, instead of just a pair." Victoria smiled and placed her hand over Victor's.

"If this is being an oddball," she said, "I don't think I want to be normal."

_It's very nice, being us_, Victor found himself thinking. Turned on his side, he watched as Victoria closed her eyes and seemed to fall asleep, her hand still on his. After a moment he realized that he had a smile on his face--and a rather dumb one at that. It really surprised Victor, how much he was looking forward to being someone's father. He'd expected to be absolutely terrified at the prospect of a family...but then again, that was how he'd felt about being married, as well. Being with Victoria, everything seemed different. Less intimidating.

Victor was almost asleep, with those comforting, sweet thoughts in mind, when he felt Victoria stir.

"Victor," she whispered. "Are you asleep yet?"

"No, I'm awake," Victor replied, his eyes closed. Actually, it came out sounding more like _gnomes ache_. Maybe he'd been closer to sleep than he thought. He couldn't quite get his eyes to open, and his concentration was slipping. Still, he heard Victoria say,

"I'd like to go somewhere. I've been thinking about it for a while now, and I'd really like to go and visit...Victor, are you _really _awake?"

"Mmph..."

"Victor?"

"Middle of the night, Victoria...too tired to go anywhere right now..." Through his sleepy haze, Victor heard Victoria laugh a little. He hadn't _thought _he'd said anything particularly funny...

"Never mind, darling. I'll tell you tomorrow," Victoria said, patting his hand. "Good night, darling."

"Night," Victor managed to mumble. And then he was out cold.


	5. A Country Visit 1

V. Five Months

Victor was having the strangest dream. He was standing in the garden, and a bunch of butterflies were fluttering all around him. A few started to land on his face. The weird thing was how _wet _the butterflies were--but they just went on landing, touching on his cheeks, forehead, and mouth before flying away again.

_"Victor," _he heard someone say. He looked around, but there wasn't anyone there. Just the butterflies.

_"Victor, wake up," _the voice said. That was when Victor fully realized that he was dreaming. Slowly he opened his eyes, feeling groggy.

As the sleepy haze cleared and Victor managed to focus his eyes, he saw Victoria sitting by his side, bending over him and holding his face between her hands. She was dropping kisses all over his face, trying to wake him up. So _that's_ what those butterflies had been. It was a rather nice way to be woken up, actually. Victor reached up and wrapped his hands around Victoria's elbows. As he did so, he noticed that she was already fully dressed. A quick glance to the dark windows confirmed that it was either ridiculously late or ridiculously early.

"Oh good, you're awake," Victoria said. "You'd best get up and dressed. We need to leave soon."

Victor watched as Victoria turned the lamp wick a little higher, brightening the dim room a bit. His sleep-addled brain needed a minute to realize what Victoria was talking about. Finally he remembered. Today was the day that they were going to visit Hildegarde.

After Victor and Victoria had married, the Everglots had used their new money to hire a legion of new servants. In the shuffle, it was decided that Hildegarde was really no use any more. Despite Victoria's protests, Hildegarde had gone to live with her grandson and his family out in the country. That had happened two years ago. It had been awful for Victoria. She'd tried to convince Hildegarde to move in with them--not as a maid, but as a family member. Victor had been all for it. He rather liked Hildegarde. But Hildegarde herself had said that she _was _getting on in years, and she'd enjoy living away from the village. She hadn't lived with her own family members for many years, after all. Victoria had seen the truth in that, even though Victor knew that it had been heartbreaking for her to lose the company of the woman who'd been like a mother to her. The two of them had kept up a lively correspondence, however, and Victoria seemed to be content with it. Judging by her letters, Hildegarde was very happy living at her grandson's house.

Victoria had, the month before, told Victor that she wanted to take a day and visit Hildegarde. She'd written and told her old maid that she and Victor were expecting a baby. And now a visit was in order. And it had to be now, Victoria said, because very soon she wouldn't be in any condition to travel.

Victor rubbed his eyes, and somehow managed to pull himself out of bed (it helped that Victoria had yanked the covers off of him in an attempt to get him moving). Still feeling a bit bleary, he wandered into his bedroom to dress. It was going to be a long day. Victor looked at the clock. Four-thirty in the morning. _Only mad people get up before seven, _Victor decided as he pulled on his shoes.

Finally he was ready to go. Victoria was waiting downstairs. As soon as she saw him coming, she pulled the front door open. One look at her face told Victor how excited she was about seeing Hildegarde. It had been a long time. Letters weren't really any substitute for actually seeing someone you cared about. With a smile Victor allowed Victoria to head outside before him. Mr. Reed was already waiting with the carriage, and soon enough they were off.

--------------------

The ride out to the country passed uneventfully enough. Probably because Victor slept his way through most of it. Victoria was quiet. The few times that Victor woke up a little he noticed that she'd brought a book along. It was a rather slim volume, bound in blue leather, and it looked as though it had been through the laundry wringer. Victor recognized it as the book that Maudeline had given Victoria a few weeks before. "Given" meaning sent parcel post without a card or telegram--only a note that said, "Read this, you need all the help you can get." Apparently it was a book of advice for new mothers, which left Victor on his own when it came to parenting advice. From what Victoria had said, though, the book was singularly uninformative--it was nothing that Mrs. Reed hadn't already told her. Besides, the fact that the book had been written at least seventy years before didn't help all that much.

"Good morning again," Victoria said when Victor at last managed to wake up and stay awake. "I was just about to wake you. We're almost there, I think."

Victor stretched, his spine making some slightly unsettling cracking noises. He was rather cramped from sleeping slouched over in the carriage. Victoria slipped her book into the little traveling case she'd brought along, and then leaned back in her seat with her hands folded in her lap. Only her frequent blinking and happy smile gave away that she was terribly excited.

Judging by the sun, it was almost noontime by the time Victor and Victoria arrived in the little farming community that Hildegarde now called home. There was a town center of sorts, with a few shops, a small church, and a livery stable. Everything was tiny, it seemed--clean and bright as well, with flowerboxes in the windowsills of the few houses that clustered around the square. Victor liked the place immediately.

Mr. Reed stopped the carriage in front of the livery. There didn't seem to be that many people out and about. Some faint noises came from the blacksmith's shop, and the birds were easy enough to hear. Other than that, it was very quiet for a weekday morning in June.

"Which one of these houses does Hildegarde live in?" Victor asked, looking out of the carriage window. There were only four to choose from. This really was a tiny village.

Victoria shook her head. "Hildegarde doesn't live here in town," she said, leaning in over his shoulder to look out the window. "Her grandson is a farmer. He has little place about a mile away." Victoria sounded absolutely enamored with the idea. In the back of his mind, Victor found himself hoping that Victoria wouldn't propose that they become farmers as well. Awfully dirty work. Animals were interesting, but the picture of himself shoveling out horse stalls and digging potatoes was one that wouldn't form in Victor's mind. The mental image of Victoria feeding chickens and milking cows was a rather amusing one, though. Victor chuckled to himself.

"What are you laughing about?" Victoria asked.

"Oh, just the idea of you milking a cow," Victor replied. He looked over his shoulder at her. Victoria looked rather puzzled. It suddenly occurred to Victor that his reply seemed to come out of nowhere. He often forgot that Victoria couldn't read his mind and discover how he was making his thoughts connect. She was always sweet about his non-sequiturs, however.

"I...suppose that _is _a rather funny idea," Victoria said with a bemused smile.

Suddenly there was a tapping on the roof of the carriage. Both of them looked up, then at each other, wondering.

"Oh, that's right," Victor said. "Mr. Reed's here, isn't he?" They'd sort of forgotten.

Victor pulled open the carriage door, propped up the little set of steps, and climbed out. As soon as his feet landed on the ground, they sent up little clouds of dust from the dry dirt of the street. _No cobblestones, even,_ Victor thought, looking at the ruts that years of wagons had made. There was even some grass here and there popping up from the dust. _How rustic!_

"Victor, I'm coming with you," Victoria said from inside the carriage. Victor turned and reached up to take her hand. As she began her descent down the little set of collapsible stairs, Victor put his other arm around her waist to steady her. After all, people were collapsible too--and Victor didn't want to take any chances.

"Thank you," Victoria said, smoothing a wrinkle out of her skirt.

"My pleasure," Victor replied. The two of them looked up at Mr. Reed, who was climbing down out of the driver's seat.

"We stopping here, Mr. Van Dort?" Mr. Reed asked when he was on the ground. Immediately he put up the collapsible stairs and shut the carriage door again. "I'll put the carriage away someplace, spend the day here...You've got someone to meet you?"

"Er, actually, I'm not sure," Victor replied. He glanced at Victoria. She'd been the one who had made all of the plans. Victor had just been told what day and the time that he was supposed to wake up. Beyond that, this was Victoria's outing, and he was more than willing to take the backseat. "Have we got someone to meet us?" he asked.

Victoria took a moment to look around. "Someone is supposed to," she replied. "Hildegarde's great-grandson is supposed to be here. He should be along. John, that's his name," she added.

"I suppose we're fine then, Mr. Reed," Victor said. "We'll meet you back here this evening, if that's all right."

Mr. Reed nodded and tipped his hat. After making sure that Victor and Victoria would be all right waiting alone, he climbed back into the driver's seat and pulled the carriage around to the back of the livery stable.

Once Mr. Reed was gone, Victor and Victoria just stood there for a while in the dusty street. Both of them were busy taking in the surroundings, and keeping an eye out for this John person. Victoria said that he'd be easy to spot, since he'd be the twelve year old driving a wagon.

"How many children does Hildegarde's grandson have?" Victor asked, curious. Victoria thought for a moment, as though pulling information from past letters from Hildegarde to the front of her mind.

"Eight," she finally said. "John is the oldest."

"Eight?" Victor repeated. He took a discreet look at Victoria's abdomen. If one didn't know she was expecting, it would be hard to tell. Eight...That would be a little village on its own.

"Yes," Victoria replied, placing a hand on her stomach. "Can you imagine?" she asked, looking up at him with a small smile. Victor just smiled back, gave her waist a squeeze, and shook his head a little by way of answer. On one hand it would be rather nice to have a whole brood of children, just for the reason that they would all be little pieces of himself and Victoria mixed together. On the other hand, the logistics of that many children were mind-boggling. He and Victoria didn't have any experience with siblings, both of them being only children and all. It would be...interesting, at least, to have more than one child. _One at a time, though, _Victor thought.

Suddenly Victoria nudged him gently with her shoulder, and pointed down the road that led out of the town square. Victor squinted, and saw that there was a wagon coming at them, driving rather quickly past the few houses and shops. While he was still rather far away, Victor could still tell that the driver was a young boy. That must be their ride.

"Going rather fast, isn't he?" Victor remarked, watching the dust fly around the wheels and the horse's hoofs as the wagon practically hurtled toward them.

"Yes," Victoria replied, sounding a little nervous.

Within seconds the wagon was almost on top of them. Instinctively Victor pulled Victoria out of the way to a safe distance as the horse came to an abrupt halt beside them. It took a minute for the dust to settle. _No son of mine would drive a wagon like that, _Victor found himself thinking.

The boy driving, who must have been John, was very young looking, with a round face and a shock of brown hair that was half-hidden under a felt cap. He clambered down from the wagon seat, keeping one hand on the horse's bridle as he turned to face Victor and Victoria.

"Morning," he said, putting out a hand for Victor to shake. "I'm John. You must be my grandmama's visitors. Ma'am," he added, tipping his cap to Victoria.

"Pleasure to meet you," Victor said, as Victoria smiled. "How did you know who we were?" he asked.

John grinned. "You're the only people I've never seen around here before. Plus, your clothes. And," he continued, looking at Victor, "Grandmama said I'd know Mr. Van Dort because he's a very tall, very skinny man with black hair and little feet."

_Thanks a lot, Hildegarde, _Victor thought. But all he said was, "Oh."

There was an awkward silence before Victoria said, in a quiet voice, "Shall we go, then?" Victor could tell that she was working very hard to contain her excitement.

"Oh...of course, ma'am," John said. He climbed up onto the wagon seat and picked up the reins. "We'll all three of us fit on the wagon seat. But you can ride in the wagon bed if you'd really like to. Just move the grain sacks over a bit. It's awful fun, riding back there."

Victor took a look into the bed of the wagon. There was a layer of dirty straw, plus a couple of full sacks of grain. Then he thought of the sight of John's driving a few moments ago. The seat would probably be safer. Cleaner, too.

"No, I think the seat will be fine," Victor said. He'd only ever ridden in carriages. He began looking over the wagon, trying to figure out exactly how one climbed up to the seat. That little bit of wood there could be a foothold...

"Here, let me help you," John said, offering Victoria his hand. She took it, and smiled over her shoulder at Victor. He could read her thoughts perfectly: _What a little gentleman!_

"Just mind the splinters," John warned. "Put your foot just there, ma'am, on that little piece of wood there."

Victor felt quite proud of himself for correctly identifying the wagon's foothold. He pointed it out to Victoria. Putting his hands on her waist, he gave her a bit of a boost, John pulling her up the rest of the way. It was quite something to see, Victoria clambering up the side of a wagon. She lost her balance a little as she maneuvered herself past John. As Victor's heart jumped up into his throat, John managed to get a firmer hold on her forearm. Victoria managed to half-sit and half-fall onto the middle of the seat. Victor let out a sigh of relief. He was rather tempted to say something along the lines of, _"Be careful with my wife!"_, but changed his mind when he saw that Victoria was fine. Within moments Victor himself climbed up onto the seat, and settled himself on Victoria's other side.

"You're all right?" he asked, just to make sure.

"Oh, yes," Victoria replied with a smile.

"All set?" John asked, picking up the reins. Victor looked at him. He decided it was time to try out a fatherly-type tone, just to see how it felt.

"Yes, we're ready. And please, could you drive a bit more slowly this time? You _have _got a lady on board," Victor said, feeling quite authoritative. No problem. Victoria had a funny little smile on her face. Victor knew that she knew what he'd been trying out, because she leaned over and whispered,

"That was quite fatherly of you, darling." Victor grinned down at her.

John, though, looked unimpressed. He had obviously heard it before from his own father. So he just nodded and replied, "Of course, sir."

With that, John slapped the reins to get the horse going, and in no time they were headed out of the tiny village square.


	6. A Country Visit 2

VI. Five Months 2

"Here we are," John announced a few minutes later. A small farm came into view. The house, rather small and just a bit worn-looking, sat at the end of the dusty road. A barn sat to the left, surrounded by various animal pens and a garden off to the side. Beyond that was nothing but fields.

"Not a moment too soon, either," Victor said under his breath as the wagon pulled to a stop in front of the house. Despite Victor's protests, John had persisted in driving hell bent for leather all the way out to the house. Several times during the ride, Victor had been positive that he and Victoria were going to die. And he wasn't being melodramatic.

"It wasn't so bad," Victoria replied quietly as Victor shakily climbed off of the wagon seat. He decided not to bother answering. Victoria was just trying to be nice for John's sake, he was sure--after all, she'd been clutching his arm for dear life almost since they'd left the square. Holding Victor's hands for balance, Victoria managed to slowly make her way down to the ground. At least they'd both made it in one piece.

"You can both go right up to the door," John said politely as he unhitched the horse. "Mother should be waiting for you--oh, for Pete's sake, would you all _please _get out from underfoot! I'm trying to get the horse into the barn!"

Victor paused for a moment, startled, and shared a wondering look with Victoria. Had that been directed at them? If so, it was _quite _a way to address one's elders. Before either of them could say anything, a girl's voice broke in.

"We're nowhere _near _you; how can we be in your way?" the girl said. "We wanted to see Grandmama's visitors."

John grumbled to himself. Then, apparently remembering that there was company present, he said, "These are my sisters, Mr. and Mrs. Van Dort." He gestured to the other side of the wagon. Soon enough, six girls came into view, all of them looking shyly curious as they stepped toward Victor and Victoria.

"Hello," Victoria said pleasantly, wearing her warmest smile. The children murmured a chorus of hellos in return. It was easy to see, in Victor's opinion, that all of them were related--they all had the same hair and the same type of face. The only one of them that didn't look quite as shy as the others appeared to be the oldest. Well, she was the tallest, anyway, and the only one wearing her hair in a bun instead of in braids or loose around her shoulders.

She was the one that stepped forward and spoke in a voice that suggested she'd been heavily coached. "Pleasure to meet you both. My name is Nettie. This is Amelia, Jane, Helen, Celia, and the little one is Flora," she rattled off, pointing at each of them in turn. As they were introduced, the girls nodded and smiled at Victor and Victoria. Except for little Flora, who couldn't have been more than two and seemed to be extremely fascinated by Victoria's dress. Victor smiled pleasantly at each of them, knowing that there was no way he'd ever remember all of their names.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you," Victor said, Victoria nodding her agreement. Nettie smiled winningly before she turned to her brother, who was already halfway to the barn with the horse.

"John!" she called. He turned, looking just slightly harassed. "Take Amelia and Helen and Celia with you. They want to help with the horse."

"We do?" Helen (or possibly Celia) asked.

"Yes, you do," Nettie replied. "I'll take Mr. and Mrs. Van Dort in to meet Mother. That's my job for today, remember?"

"But we'd like to visit, too."

"You're too young for visiting," Nettie said haughtily.

Victor and Victoria stood there rather uncomfortably as they listened to the squabbling. It really wasn't their place to say anything--these weren't their children. For his part, Victor thought that the "too young" argument was a bit unfair. After all, the two littlest ones were coming into the house with them.

"Just do as I say, and go with John," Nettie finished. She picked up Flora, who had, unnoticed, toddled her way over to Victoria and was curiously investigating the flounces on the hem of Victoria's dress.

John sighed the sigh of the incredibly put-upon before gesturing for his sisters to follow him. Victor got the distinct sense that they were all used to being bossed by Nettie. Had Victor thought it would be interesting to have more than one child? Well, he'd just changed his mind, after listening to that little round of bickering. Victor was quickly realizing that one thing he and Victoria might have to prepare themselves for (in the event they had more than one child) was sibling interaction. Neither of them had ever experienced it firsthand, and it looked as though it would take getting used to.

Victoria took Victor's arm, and the two of them followed Nettie to the front porch. A short, sturdy woman (who looked just like her daughters, Victor noted) was standing in the doorway watching them approach, and she smiled warmly when they reached her.

"Good morning," the woman said, gesturing them into the house. "My name is Charlotte. And I see you've met some of my children already."

"My husband, Richard, isn't here at the moment," Charlotte explained, closing the door behind them.

"Papa's helping build a barn," one of the girls said helpfully.

"Jane, please, not unless you're spoken to," Charlotte said in a gentle but firm tone. Without missing a beat, she added to Victor and Victoria, "Yes, he is away helping a neighbor, but he should be back before you leave. Please, this way."

Victor paused in the entryway and took a look around. The inside of the house looked as well lived in as the outside. To the left was a small parlor, to the right the staircase. Ahead of them was a slightly dim hallway that presumably led to the kitchen.

"You have a lovely house," Victoria said as their hostess led them into the parlor. Charlotte smiled her thanks and told them to take a seat. After telling Nettie to keep them company, she went off to fetch Hildegarde.

Victor helped Victoria into an armchair, and, after a moment's hesitation, took the ottoman for himself. Nettie settled herself onto the settee, and plopped her younger sister down on the floor. The other little girl--Jane?--who looked to be about four, settled herself on a little stool near Victor's feet. It was a pleasant, though somewhat awkward, little scene. No one said anything. But Victor noticed that Victoria was looking at the three children with interest, and had a hand on her stomach as she gazed at them. _In a few years, this really could be us,_ Victor thought. _Sitting in the parlor with little ones all over the place..._He rather liked the idea.

Suddenly he felt a pull on his trouser leg. He looked down, and there was Jane, smiling charmingly up at him.

"Hello," she said, wiggling her fingers in a little wave. Victor couldn't help smiling back. He glanced at Victoria, and she gave him an encouraging smile of her own.

"Hello," Victor replied. Much to his surprise, Nettie made an exasperated _tuh!_ sort of noise from the settee.

"Jane, please, don't bother our guests," she said, imitating her mother. Turning her attention to Victor, she added apologetically, "I'm sorry about that, Mr. Van Dort."

"Oh no, she's not bothering," Victor said.

"Not at all," Victoria was quick to add, smiling again at Jane. Jane beamed happily.

Luckily, before the next awkward silence could stretch too far, Charlotte reentered the room. This time, Hildegarde was with her. Victoria drew a sharp breath on seeing her old maid. Victor stood and nodded to her, a smile on his face. This seemed to be the day for smiles. Victoria made a move as though to get up, but seemed to think better of it. She was getting to the point, Victor knew, where sudden movements were pretty much unheard of. So she simply smiled and put out a hand as Hildegarde crossed the room with slightly rickety steps.

The little reunion was a sweet and quiet one. Hildegarde took Victor's place on the ottoman, holding Victoria's hands in hers.

"Oh, Miss Victoria," she said, reaching up to pat Victoria's cheek. "You look very well."

"And so do you," Victoria replied, her voice sounding a little hoarse. "I'm so happy to see you!"

Victor stood off to one side as Victoria and Hildegarde exchanged quiet greetings and pleasantries. A warmth filled him as he watched the pair. This meant so much to Victoria. Everyone else in the room seemed to sense that as well--even Flora was quiet.

A shrill cry cut through the warm atmosphere of the parlor, making everyone jump. The cries continued, and it took Victor a moment to realize what it was--a baby.

"The baby's awake--I'll go fetch her," Charlotte said.

"That must be number eight," Victor said, almost to himself. It had just occurred to him that he and Victoria had met only seven children so far. Eight. His mind was still slightly boggled by that.

"And my little namesake," Hildegarde said, looking pleased. Victoria squeezed her hand.

"How lovely," she said. Glancing at Victor, she added, "I suppose we don't need to name our baby after Hildegarde, then."

_We were planning on naming a daughter Hildegarde?_ Victor thought. That was news to him. Nevertheless, he settled on a grin and a shrug as a response.

"Here she is," Hildegarde said suddenly. Victor and Victoria both followed Hildegarde's gaze to the doorway, where Charlotte had reappeared. A blanketed bundle filled her arms. Crossing the room, she held out the baby for Victor and Victoria to see.

"Would you like to hold her, dearie?" Hildegarde asked Victoria. Looking uncertain, Victoria glanced up at Charlotte.

"Go ahead," Charlotte said encouragingly, "You should practice a bit."

With that, she set the baby in Victoria's arms, gently correcting Victoria's inexperienced hold. Victoria, for her part, looked almost overcome as she looked down at the little girl. What amazed Victor was how..._little_ the baby was. For some reason he'd never thought that babies could be that small. He was also rather amazed at the way Victoria looked--so seemingly at ease and natural. There had never been any question of whether or not they would have children--like getting married, it was simply something that people did, whether they liked it or not. But Victoria was so looking forward to being a mother; she'd told him so several times during their marriage. Soon it was going to be a reality, after three years of talking about it. Just as much as he'd once looked forward to his and Victoria's wedding, he was now looking forward to Victoria having his children. Parenthood no longer seemed like the obligation it once did, but something that Victor wanted very much. It was quite the idea, really--three years ago, he never would have dreamed that he'd want to be a father quite so much. Victor supposed that it had something to do with the fact that Victoria would be the child's mother.

"We call her Hilda, just so we don't get confused," Charlotte said, cutting through Victor's reflections. Hilda waved her tiny arms about and made mewling noises. Only the other children seemed unimpressed with the baby's behavior--Victor figured that it was hardly new to them, not with so many siblings.

"Oh," Victoria breathed, cradling the baby gently in her arms. "Victor, isn't she beautiful?"

Actually, the baby looked a bit like a monkey to Victor, but he'd never say such a thing aloud. So he simply nodded, smiled, and replied, "Oh, yes."

"Would you like to hold her?" Charlotte asked. Victor took a minute to respond. He'd been so caught up in watching Victoria, he wasn't quite ready for the suggestion.

"Er..." he answered. It was all he could manage. He didn't entirely trust himself. This was someone else's baby, after all. Still, it _looked _easy enough.

"I...suppose," Victor finally said. Rather reluctantly Victoria handed the baby back to Charlotte, who gestured for Victor to sit. Victor sat down in the wooden chair next to Victoria's armchair and held out his arms. Every eye seemed to be on him. Just as she had with Victoria, Charlotte placed the baby in his lap and showed him how to hold his arms.

For a few seconds Victor felt entirely foolish. Victoria had looked completely natural with a baby in her arms, and Victor doubted that the same could be said about him. But, looking down at Hilda, he felt a small surge of confidence. The feeling of holding a tiny little person was an entirely new one--he couldn't even describe it. After a moment he felt Victoria's hand on his arm. Victor looked over at her, and they shared an intimate sort of smile.

_I think we can do this, _Victor thought as he looked back down at the baby. Something told him Victoria was thinking the same thing.


	7. A Country Visit 3

**Author's Note: **Just a little scene to round this "vignette" out with. I hope the semi-flashback technique works here—if it doesn't, I'll revise.

VII. Five Months 3

Victor and Victoria were quiet on the drive back. They'd left Hildegarde's house close to an hour before, just after Hildegarde's grandson, Richard, had returned home. Victor was going to keep the memory of that particular homecoming for quite some time.

Victoria had spent the entire afternoon, of course, with Hildegarde. The two of them had sat quietly together near the parlor fireplace. Just chatting together—mostly reminiscing about Victoria's childhood. Everybody else in the house had gone about business as usual after Hilda had been put back in her cradle. Little Flora had made fast friends with Victoria, and sat on her lap for most of the afternoon. For his own part, Victor had sat off to one side, enjoying his passive role in the conversation. Once in a while Jane, who was apparently still too little to have much to do about the house, would tug on his trouser leg to get his attention. She didn't really have too much to say, however—they must have exchanged hellos at least six times over the course of the afternoon. Still, she was a charming little girl. When Victor wasn't "talking" to Jane, he had been listening to Victoria and Hildegarde talk. Victor had been extremely amused to learn that Victoria, for a short time as a toddler, had made quite the habit out of biting people. He'd decided then and there that he was never going to let her live that one down. The afternoon had fairly flown by, and the visit had been ended by Richard's arrival (Victor was immensely glad that it would be Richard driving them back into town, rather than John).

As soon as he walked through the door, Richard had been greeted with various shouts of "Papa's home!" And with that, all seven of the children (Flora having scrambled off of Victoria's lap the moment she heard her father's voice) ran to the entry to meet him. Victor found himself hoping that, one day, he'd get the same kind of welcome when he entered his house. The display that followed was one unlike any that Victor and Victoria had ever seen—and certainly unlike any they'd ever experienced with their own parents. All six of the older girls had swarmed around their father like bees as he walked into the parlor, even before he'd been introduced to Victor and Victoria. John had stood off to the side a bit, and Richard had reached over the girls' heads to give him a clap on the shoulder, and then to give Charlotte a kiss. Such a display in front of company would have been absolutely _unheard_ of when Victor was little—and he knew that that probably went double for the Everglot household. Goodness, even _without_ company present, "affection" had practically been a dirty word for them growing up.

Both Victor and Victoria had watched almost in awe at all of the affection being spread about. Victoria had taken Victor's hand gently, and whispered,

"I want it to be like this."

Victor hadn't needed to ask for clarification. He knew exactly what she meant. And he agreed wholeheartedly. So they had simply watched this family, so unlike both of theirs, knowing exactly which example they both wanted to follow. Victoria had begun running her hand gently over her abdomen, perhaps unconsciously, as she gazed at the happy little scene before them. Victor had put his arm about her shoulders and given her a gentle squeeze. He knew just how she felt.

Goodbyes had been said soon after that. Hildegarde had wished them luck, and instructed them to bring the baby on a visit as soon as they could (she simply wasn't up to being present at a birth at her age). Victoria was looking happier than Victor had seen her in a while. A little tired, maybe, but she was almost glowing all the way back to the little town square. Luckily it hadn't taken long to find Mr. Reed. He'd apparently had quite a day hanging about the livery and talking to the blacksmiths and the grooms and...whoever else worked in a livery—Victor really hadn't the faintest idea.

So now Victor and Victoria sat in contented silence side by side in their carriage. The sun was just setting, casting a red glow over them. Hopefully they'd be home before it got too dark. Victor hated traveling at night. Victoria sighed and leaned her head on Victor's shoulder.

"That was a lovely visit," she said, putting a hand on his arm. "Thank you for coming out here with me."

"Well, I couldn't very well have let you go alone," Victor replied, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "And taking a day to go and visit a family like that was far from a hardship."

From her voice, Victor knew that Victoria was smiling. "They are nice people, aren't they?" she asked. She sounded a quite tired all of a sudden.

"Feeling all right?" Victor asked, looking down at the top of her head. Lately it seemed that he asked her that at least twice a day. Luckily Victoria never got annoyed by it, but took his questioning for what it was—real concern. It wasn't as though he'd ever had a pregnant wife before, after all. Nor had Victoria ever been pregnant before. It seemed to Victor that there was some cause for getting reassurance on the matter of Victoria's well-being. Victoria shifted a bit in her seat before she answered.

"Yes, I'm all right. A little tired, though. I'll be glad to get—ooh!" Victoria suddenly gave a cry of surprise and sat bolt upright. In the dim light, Victor saw that she was hugging her middle. The expression on her face was hard to define. Somewhere between surprise, awe, and bewilderment. Victor's expression, if his face was reflecting how hard his stomach had just flipped over, was one of near panic.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked quickly, looking at her closely. "Shall I tell Mr. Reed to stop the carriage?" Victoria merely shook her head before turning to him.

"No, nothing's wrong," Victoria said. Her voice was very low, and her tone hard to interpret.

"It's the baby," she continued in that near-whisper, looking down at her abdomen. Bewildered, Victor just stared at her. She didn't look to be in pain or anything. Much to Victor's surprise, Victoria turned to him again, this time with a smile that was nearly a beam.

"Victor, I can feel the baby moving about!" She was still nearly whispering, but it was the most excited, happy, and reverent whisper Victor had ever heard.

"Really? What does it feel like?" he asked, quite curious. Victoria took a moment to answer.

"Like...like a little bird fluttering its wings," Victoria said. "Victor, it's...I can't even describe it."

It was at that moment that a certain reality finally hit Victor—Victoria was really, incredibly, carrying a living thing inside of herself. For some reason he hadn't quite appreciated that until this very moment. And that living thing was half Victoria and half Victor. It was...really quite something.

"Here," Victoria said. She reached over, took Victor's hand, and laid it on her middle. Holding his hand there, she asked with a quiet excitement, "Well?"

For a moment, Victor didn't feel a thing. Just the fabric of her dress, and the hint of her stomach under layers of cloth. And the slight bounce of the carriage. But that was all. He was about to give it up and suggest trying again later when he felt what Victoria had been talking about. Little, almost imperceptible flutterings. Something was _definitely _moving about. Victor almost gasped. Eyes wide, he looked at Victoria, who was staring back at him with her own wide-eyed expression.

"That's...my goodness," was all he could manage to say.

"My goodness, indeed," Victoria answered with a small laugh. Victor pulled her closer and kissed the side of her head. _It's really...really something, _Victor thought to himself.

"I love you," Victor said, kissing her again. Then he looked down at their hands, still resting on Victoria's stomach.

"I love you both," he amended.


	8. Dr Van Ekel

VIII. Six Months

"Victoria, shouldn't you see the doctor?"

Victor asked the question quietly, without quite looking at her. The two of them were in the parlor, putting together a pressed-flower book. Victoria's birthday had been a few days before, and Victor had given her the specially made flowerbook as a present. It went well with the flower-press that she'd given him for Christmas. A pile of dried flowers--violets, pansies, roses, and a host of others--lay in neat piles on the low table in front of them as they sat side by side on the sofa.

Victoria was perched nearly on the edge, her stomach sort of hanging out into space. Her abdomen was beginning to look more and more like an independent structure every day. If she sat all the way back on a chair now, it was very difficult for her to get back up again. They'd learned that just last week, when Victor had had to rescue her from one of the armchairs in the study. At the time they'd laughed and made a joke or two about installing pulley systems for when Victor wasn't available, but Victor had secretly begun to get a little anxious. It had occurred to him that there were only about three months left until the baby arrived--July was already half over.

So far, everything had been quite fine. Victoria was feeling well, and seemed to be enjoying herself. Mrs. Reed was still acting as her official advisor. While Victor appreciated that pregnancy was more than likely primarily women's business (more than once Victor had felt that he was simply along for the ride), he'd still started to think about the doctor. Didn't doctors usually attend births? What went on at a birth, anyway? Victoria was in on something that Victor wasn't--he had the feeling that she'd been briefed on what to expect much more thoroughly than he had. However, she hadn't volunteered any information. She'd probably answer honestly if Victor asked, but...how to bring it up?

So Victor had chosen this quiet moment in the parlor to pose his question. He'd meant to lead into it a bit more, perhaps start off by asking how Victoria was feeling, then getting into a discussion of what, precisely, was going to occur in three months' time. The best laid plans, however...

Victor finally looked up to see Victoria staring at him, looking rather surprised. She had a bunch of dried violets in one hand. They went rather well with the white dress she was wearing. Victoria had officially given up her corsets and tight dresses a few weeks ago, on Mrs. Reed's suggestion and over her mother's strenuous objections. Now she wore dresses that gave her more room, and looked an awful lot like her nightgowns. They really weren't the kind of dresses that Victoria would show herself in public wearing. Not that she was leaving the house all that much lately.

"I already have, remember?" Victoria replied, looking at him closely. "I went to make sure about whether I was expecting or not. I'm all right, why do I need the doctor right now?"

"Well..." Victor began, unsure as to how to continue. To help himself think, Victor began busily rearranging some of the piles of flowers. Finally, his eyes still on the table, he said, "It's simply that we...well, haven't really discussed anything about...you know. When the baby arrives."

Victoria gave a slow nod. "What did you want to discuss?" she asked, sounding curious. Victor shrugged.

"I'm really not sure," he said. Victoria laughed quietly, making Victor smile as he stared at the flowers on the table.

"All right, then," Victoria said, putting the flowers down and folding her hands in what little lap she had left. "Would you like to hear my plans?"

"Of course."

"Well," Victoria began, speaking in a low, quietly excited sort of tone, "I've decided that I'd like to have Mrs. Reed present when...you know. The baby arrives." She paused, and then added quietly, "This may sound...disloyal, but I'd really rather not have Mother there. It's simply...you know."

Victor nodded encouragingly. He did know. It made sense that she'd want Mrs. Reed there, considering how close the two of them had become. She was almost like a surrogate Hildegarde. Still, Victor couldn't help but wonder how good an idea it was to have a housekeeper instead of a doctor assisting at such an important event. He wasn't surprised that Victoria didn't want her mother there. It would be uncomfortable and stressful for all involved. Besides, Maudeline would probably say no, anyway.

"And I do not want to hire a nanny or anything like that," Victoria continued. "I'd like to have our child know us...to know me. Of course, Mrs. Reed will help until I've found my feet again."

"And me?" Victor asked. Again, Victoria looked surprised.

"Of course. I mean--you're interested in helping with the baby?" she asked, sounding cautiously delighted.

"Interested? Of course I'm interested," Victor replied. "I'd like to help as much as I can." From the way Victoria was looking at him, he again had that feeling that he was signing himself up for something about which he hadn't a clue. Well, goodness. When they'd visited Hildegarde last month, Victor felt that he'd proven himself to be rather good with children. Perhaps not Victoria's caliber, but still.

"That's really quite lovely of you, Victor," Victoria said, tilting her head and smiling. There was a short silence.

"What else are you planning?" Victor asked.

"Well..." Victoria said. She gestured for him to come closer. He leaned toward her, and she said in a whisper, "I'd rather not hire a wet nurse either, despite what my mother says."

"That's all right with me...but why are you whispering?" Victor whispered back. Victoria looked at the floor for a moment before meeting his eyes again.

"You haven't any idea what a wet nurse is, do you?" she asked affectionately, still in a whisper. Victor scratched the back of his neck.

"Er...not as such, no," he finally replied. Victoria moved away from him again and said at normal volume,

"That's all right, I'll tell you later." She glanced at the parlor door as she said it, as though afraid someone might burst in on them. Ignoring Victor's bewildered expression, she said, "That's really as far as I've gotten. Well, and the nursery will be the room on the other side of mine--but you knew that already. I suppose we'll just have to wait and see." Victoria reached out and patted his hand. "Everything will be fine. Please don't worry."

So saying, Victoria turned back to her violets. But Victor couldn't help but worry. He wanted Victoria, and the baby, to be safe. Much to Victor's discomfort, his mother had happily shared some birth-related horror stories the last time he'd gone for tea. The only good thing about that particular afternoon was that Victoria had, mercifully, stayed at home. After hearing his mother talk, Victor had decided it was probably a good idea to have a doctor. Just in case. He decided to try again.

"But Victoria..." Victor began, trailing off almost as soon as he started.

"Yes?"

"I just think...well, shouldn't you have the doctor there when the baby is born?" There, he'd said it. Though he hadn't been expecting Victoria's scandalized look.

"Victor, he's a man," she said with a gasp. Victor furrowed his eyebrows.

"Well, yes, I know, but what does that have to do with...oh. _Oh!_" Victor said, getting it. Victoria nodded slowly.

"Be that as it may," Victor fumbled, "I think it will be safer to have the doctor there. I'm only concerned about you, and the baby. I mean...what if something goes wrong?" It pained Victor to say that, but if his mother was to be believed, things went wrong quite often when children were born. Victoria could...die. Quickly he shoved that thought from his mind. He didn't even want to think about it.

"Nothing is going to go wrong," Victoria said, quiet but firm. "I'll be quite all right, I promise. I'm simply...not comfortable with Dr. Van Ekel."

"But he came over last year when you had bronchitis," Victor pointed out. Victoria refused to meet his eyes, concentrating getting the bunch of dried violets to lie flat on the open page of the scrapbook.

"Yes, and I was uncomfortable enough having him stare into my _mouth_," she replied in a whisper. "I'll be all right, Victor--Mrs. Reed knows what she's about. Do you know how many children she and Mr. Reed have?"

Not quite understanding what that had to do with anything, Victor took the bait. "I don't," he replied. "How many?"

"Twelve," Victoria said. "_And _she was a midwife from time to time. Shall we just ignore that kind of experience?"

"_Twelve?_" Victor repeated. He was silent for a moment, taking that bit of information in. How in the world was that even _possible_? Where did they _put _all of those children? And he'd thought eight was some sort of record.

"Incredible," Victor said at length, staring into the middle distance.

A slightly tense silence settled over them. Victor felt that he and Victoria were very lucky in that they rarely disagreed. On those few occasions when they did differ, it was usually over something trivial. But this situation was hardly a trivial one. Actually, it was the least trivial thing Victor could think of. Taking a breath, he decided to have one more stab at it.

"Victoria, be reasonable--he's a doctor."

"Yes, and he's also a man."

"But he's a _doctor_."

"I _know_. But he's a _man_."

Another impasse. Victoria seemed incredibly adamant about not having the doctor present. Victor, even though he thought he understood where Victoria was coming from, thought she was being absolutely ridiculous. She was by nature a very modest and proper person, but for heaven's sake--this was her health they were talking about. Not just hers, but their child's. Victor wasn't exactly crazy about the idea of having a male doctor in there with Victoria either, but the man was a professional. It was part of his job. Besides, Mrs. Reed would be there, and Victor would be nearby.

Now, how to word that in a less offensive manner? Sighing, Victor picked up a rose, and then put it back down again. Then he picked it back up. With another sigh, this one sounding a bit more like a snort, he turned to Victoria.

"Victoria, he's a _doctor_!" he said, slightly exasperated. He sat there staring at her, the dried rose in his hand. She stared back at him. Neither of them said anything for a moment.

"I feel as though we've already had this part of the conversation," Victoria finally said, deadpan. Victor sputtered for a moment, and then gave up, shaking his head.

Waving his hand, he said, "Fine, Victoria. If you're that certain, I won't say anything more about it. Do as you like." If she didn't want Dr. Van Ekel present, then Victor wouldn't force her to have him there. Still, in the back of his mind, Victor reserved the right to go get the doctor in the event of an emergency. Victoria wouldn't object to that, he was sure.

Something in his tone must have gotten to her, because suddenly Victor felt Victoria's hand on his arm. He turned to find her looking at him, a set sort of expression on her face.

"If you'd really like me to have the doctor there, I'll do it," Victoria said. It obviously took a lot of effort for her to say it.

"Thank you," Victor said, wisely leaving it at that.

------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a week later, and Victor was showing the doctor out the front door. Dr. Van Ekel, a rather stout man who had probably been a doctor considerably longer than Victor and Victoria had been alive, had arrived about an hour ago. Victor had hung about near the closed parlor door while the doctor spoke with Victoria. He'd made an attempt to eavesdrop, but they had been speaking in low voices. He hadn't been able to hear a thing. Oh, well. Victoria would fill him in.

As soon as the doctor was in his carriage and heading down the drive, Victor shut the door and went to join Victoria in the parlor. He found her sitting in one of the armchairs, her elbow propped up on the armrest and her hand over her face.

"Is something wrong?" Victor asked, immediately alarmed. "What did the doctor say?" Taking a seat on the ottoman next to Victoria's chair, he took her free hand in his. The doctor hadn't looked particularly alarmed when he'd left. In fact, he'd congratulated Victor and said he'd see him soon. _Why didn't I stay in here with them? _Victor asked himself, waiting for Victoria to answer him.

"Oh, the things he _asked _me!" Victoria finally said, her voice muffled by her hand. "I was so embarrassed, I thought I'd die."

"But...you're all right, aren't you?" Victor asked. "Er, well, besides being embarrassed enough to die?" He didn't feel he should make her elaborate--he did have an imagination, after all.

"Yes, yes, I'm perfectly all right. _I _could have told you that, however." Sighing, Victoria dropped her hand from her face. "And we're to call on him when...when I have the baby. He'll come over. I do hope you're happy."

"Goodness, does it really bother you _that _much?" Victor asked, stroking her hand. Victoria paused before she answered.

"Well, no, I suppose not," she said finally. "I suppose it will be safer...that's why I'm willing to have him there."

"What did he say, exactly?" Victor asked, curiosity finally getting the best of him.

"One point he was adamant about was that I have a boy," Victoria replied. It was easy to see that she was making a great effort not to roll her eyes. "The good doctor doesn't believe in having girls first, you see."

Victor furrowed his eyebrows. "But how...I mean, there's no way to help it one way or the other, is there?" he asked slowly.

Victoria shook her head. "Of course not. But he seems to think I can will myself to have a son."

"It really couldn't matter less to me," Victor said. "What else did he say?"

"You really want to know?"

"Of course."

"He said...he said I have nothing much to worry about. I'm as sturdy as a French pony."

Victor blinked. Biting his lip to keep from laughing he repeated, "Sturdy as--"

"A French pony, yes."

"That's a...good thing. I suppose. But it makes you sound...well..."

"Yes, go on."

"Well, a bit like a...brood mare," Victor said.

"You know what?" Victoria replied, cocking an eyebrow. "I think that's _precisely_ the way the doctor is thinking of me."


	9. Vincent, Vera, Viola

IX. Seven Months

Finally, after two weeks, the rain had stopped. Victor and Victoria were spending the first sunny day in August out in the garden. While Victoria sat on one of the stone benches, her eyes closed and her face tilted up to catch the sunshine, Victor was pruning what remained of the summertime flowers.

"Which are you hoping for? A boy or a girl?" Victoria asked suddenly. Victor looked over at her, pausing for a moment. In thinking about it, he couldn't believe that they hadn't discussed this yet.

"Oh, I'll be happy either way," Victor replied. "It really doesn't matter to me. What about you?"

"A girl," Victoria said immediately. Victor smiled at her, cocking an eyebrow. Quickly she amended, "But of course I'll be just as happy with a son." Sighing contentedly, she leaned back a little farther. "I simply think I know more about girls--and I'd like very much to be able to raise a girl in a way...well..."

"Differently than the way you were raised?" Victor finished for her. Victoria opened her eyes, glancing over at him with a small smile.

"Yes, I suppose that's what I mean," she said. They were both silent for a moment, and Victor wondered if she was thinking along the same lines he was--about how they'd like their own family to be. Neither of them wanted repeats of their own childhoods, but Victor couldn't help but think that it was perhaps inevitable. Still, as Victoria had pointed out the last time they'd talked about raising their child, Victor and Victoria had turned out to be completely different than their parents. And their marriage was unlike anything the village had ever seen before. Who could really say what sort of person the baby would grow up to be, what sort of parents he and Victoria would be? All Victor knew was that he'd liked what he'd seen at Hildegarde's house, and so had Victoria. Ideally, that was the sort of home they'd like to make. He just hoped they were equipped for it.

Or rather, that _he _was equipped for it. It seemed as though Victoria could do anything. She was so kind and gentle. Tough, though, as well, when the situation called for it. Yes, he felt that Victoria was well equipped for parenthood...and he found himself hoping that he would measure up.

"Victor, are you all right?" Victoria asked, a note of concern in her voice. Unsure of what she meant, he turned to her.

"Yes, I'm fine. Why?"

"You've just clipped the entire top off of that hedge," she replied, pointing. Looking down, Victor saw that she was right--while he'd been thinking, he'd forgotten that he was wielding hedge clippers. There was now a lopsided hole in one of the tall hedges that he'd been growing almost since the day they'd moved in. Making a _tuh_ sort of noise, he glanced back and forth between the clippers and the hedge. Now he had four nice, even hedges, and one misfit. _Oh well, _Victor thought, shrugging to himself, though he was a bit disappointed. _It gives the garden character._

"I was just thinking," Victor finally said, responding to Victoria's question. "I think I'd prefer a girl, as well." Victoria already knew that he was a bit nervous about his impending fatherhood--she'd spent several of the past rainy days talking it over with him, listening to him, reassuring him (oddly, though, she hadn't confessed to any fears of her own, even though Victor had asked many times). He felt he should give her some new information.

"Any particular reason?" Victoria asked, sounding truly interested. Now Victor fumbled a little, feeling suddenly embarrassed.

"It's just...well...what if we had a son, and he..." Victor turned away, staring at the hedge clippers in his hands. "Turned out like me?" he finished in a rush. Behind him, he heard Victoria stand up and take a few steps toward him. Soon enough he felt her hands on his back, and her cheek against his arm.

"What in the world do you mean?" she asked, sounding tired. Victor knew how much she disliked it when he got into his self-deprecating moods. But he couldn't help it. Growing up, he hadn't exactly been encouraged to like himself all that much...neither had Victoria, come to think of it. How did she manage to be so sure of herself? It was a trait that Victor both admired and envied in her. Nonetheless, Victor couldn't help but have visions of his own son being shy and introverted, different from everyone else. True, that would mean he'd fit in marvelously with Victor and Victoria, but what about the bigger picture? Being different wasn't exactly a picnic...Victor suddenly found himself looking at the hedge he'd just massacred. He was still staring at it when Victoria spoke next.

"Don't talk that way," she said in a comforting tone. "I'd welcome a son who was like you. There's nothing the matter with you. _I _like you," she finished, and Victor could hear the smile in her voice.

"For that matter," she added after a moment, "What if we had a daughter that was like me?" Victor twisted his head a bit to look down at her, a bit surprised.

"That would be wonderful," he said. "I think the world needs more people like you. Another Victoria would be a real asset." Victoria laughed quietly into his arm.

"And so would another Victor," she declared, ending the conversation and leaving Victor with a very warm feeling. After giving his back one more pat, Victoria headed back to her bench.

"Perhaps it will be another Victor," she said after a while. Seeing Victor's questioning look, she explained, "I was just thinking--shall we name a son Victor?"

"No, I don't think so," he replied slowly.

"Why ever not?"

"If we named the baby after one of us, it would get confusing," Victor pointed out. He turned back to pruning the flowers as he continued, "And what if it becomes a tradition? Suppose we live long enough to see our great-grandchildren--"

"Great-grandchildren!" Victoria interrupted, sounding delighted.

"Well, yes. Just imagine the family reunions--someone would call for Victor and ten people would come running. No," he said, bending to pick up the prunings, "I just don't think it's a good idea."

They'd already decided that, in the event the baby was a girl, her middle name would be Emily. But they both wanted her to have a first name all her own. Victoria had been ready with a suggestion about the possibility of a boy--his middle initial could simply be "E," and they'd leave it alone unless asked directly about its origins. But they hadn't yet talked about possibilities for first names. Victor had a few ideas, and he was sure Victoria did, as well.

"Well, what _would _you like to name a boy?" Victoria asked, as though reading his mind. Victor set the hedge clippers on the ground alongside the pile of prunings before joining her on the bench. He put a hand on her stomach, and felt the now-familiar (but no less remarkable) movements. Maybe it would help him think.

"How about George?" Victor suggested. Victoria nodded.

"Yes, I like that name. But I've always been partial to Charles, myself. Or Edward."

"Edward?" Victor repeated dubiously.

"What's wrong with that?" Victoria sounded amused rather than insulted. Victor simply shrugged.

"I just don't like the name Edward," he replied apologetically. It had been her idea, and he didn't want to hurt her feelings.

"Why not?" Before he could answer, Victoria smiled widely and said, "Wait, don't tell me. You have the same irrational hatred for the name Edward as you do for Gilbert and Sullivan."

"It's not irrational," Victor replied, quick to defend himself. "And I don't _hate _them--it's simply that I think it's silly to ask people to sing at roughly four hundred beats per second. What's more, their music is all a lot of flash with no real heart or feeling to it."

"I'm sorry, now I've upset you."

"No, you haven't. Gilbert and Sullivan have."

"Please, forget I said anything," Victoria said, patting his hand. Victor smiled, and laid a hand over hers.

"Henry's a nice name," she said, back to business. "Or Timothy, perhaps."

"I think I like Charles," Victor replied, making Victoria smile widely again. He'd run out of ideas for the moment, anyway.

"What about girls?" Victoria asked. For a moment or two they were quiet, thinking.

"Catherine, I think," she finally said. "With a 'C', not a 'K.'" Victor grinned at her.

"Don't tell me," he said, lifting her hand to kiss it, "You have the same irrational hatred for the letter 'K' as I have for Gilbert and Sullivan."

"Catherine with a 'C' is more elegant," she replied through a small laugh. "And 'Anne' should always have an 'e', in my opinion."

She'd obviously given this a lot more thought than Victor had previously believed. Stroking her fingers, he tried to come up with some more suggestions.

"How about names that start with 'V'?" he finally said. Victoria thought for a moment.

"Wouldn't that make us sound a bit like a troupe of circus performers or something?" she replied, sounding doubtful. "I mean, if we all had names that began with the same letter. Besides, how many names are there that begin with 'V'?"

"Well, we've already ruled out 'Victor' and 'Victoria,'" Victor said. He glanced around the garden for inspiration.

"There's Violet."

"Vera."

"Vaughn."

"Eugh, no."

"All right...Vincent."

"Venus."

"Don't you think that's an awful lot for a girl to live up to?" Victor asked.

"It just popped into my head. This is harder than I thought. Hmm...Vernon?"

"I don't think so. How about Viola?"

"People would make jokes. 'What are you planning on naming the next one, Armonica?'"

"By 'people,' do you mean my father?"

That made them both laugh quietly, their heads bowed together. In other words, one of those very soft, intimate laughs that Victor enjoyed very much. Once they'd stopped, Victoria leaned back a little.

"Out of those choices," she said, "I think I like Vincent, Vera, and Viola best." Victor nodded his agreement.

"Let's see, then--we'd be Victor, Victoria, Vincent, Vera, and Viola Van Dort," he said, ticking off the names on his fingers as he spoke. He looked at his hand, and then at Victoria.

"You're right, that _does _sound like a troupe of circus performers," he said.

"Any other suggestions?" Victoria asked, taking his hand again. Victor thought for a moment.

"How about Lydia? I've always thought it a pretty name."

"It is pretty," Victoria agreed. "Lydia Van Dort," she said slowly, trying it out. Then she smiled. "I like it."

"And Charles for a boy," Victor replied, returning her wide smile. The decisions were sealed with a gentle, quick kiss.

"I'd best be getting back inside now," Victoria murmured after they pulled apart. "I think I'll lie down for a while, if you don't mind."

"Of course not. Let me help you up." Carefully, with Victor's help, Victoria eased herself off of the bench and headed for the house.

He watched as Victoria made her way slowly toward the porch steps. Her normally dainty, quick step had slowed over the past few weeks, and she often kept her hands resting on her abdomen when she walked now. Victor just sat for another moment or two, feeling a wave of warmth and affection as his eyes followed Victoria's progress.

Before getting up--Victoria was almost to the steps now, and she could probably use some help--Victor looked over at the church. It seemed very small from this distance. Very soon, Lydia or Charles Van Dort would be christened there, as amazing as that seemed. Then his gaze drifted to the woods that housed the cemetery, and finally up to the sky.

_Wherever you are, _Victor thought with a small smile, _I hope you're as happy as I am._


	10. Late Night Knitting

X. Eight Months

Victor had the habit of waking up periodically during the night, and tonight, even though he'd been sleeping soundly, was no different. He rolled over, half-awake, and put his arm around Victoria. After a moment, he realized there was something wrong. After moving his arm around for a bit, he realized that Victoria wasn't next to him.

"Victoria?" he asked sleepily. As he slowly came to, he noticed that there was a lamp lit. He looked around the room, and his eyes finally came to rest on Victoria, who was sitting in her small armchair near the window in her nightgown, furiously knitting.

"Victoria?" Victor asked again, pulling himself into a sitting position and running a hand over his eyes.

"I need to finish these blankets," Victoria murmured, bent over her work. "I haven't got nearly enough." Victor stared for a moment, then squinted at the clock on the dresser.

"It's two o'clock in the morning," he said, concerned. "How long have you been up?"

"I haven't been to bed yet."

Victor thought back. Usually he was the one who stayed up half the night. But that day had been rather exhausting, what with finishing up the nursery and all. Hauling furniture up a flight of stairs, even with Mr. Reed's help, was no joke. Victor had fallen asleep almost as soon as he'd been between the covers...that must have been around ten or so. He'd just assumed Victoria had come to bed, as well.

But no, there she was, knitting away. Despite what she'd just said about lacking blankets, there was a pile of them on the small table next to the lamp, along with a few baby-sized caps and little booties. Victoria had obviously been at it for quite a while. The wrap that she wore over her nightgown was slipping from her shoulders, and there were faint shadows under her eyes. She must have been a little cold--the fire had long since burned down, and the bedroom was very chilly. Maybe that was why she looked so drawn. Victor was about to mention it when Victoria spoke.

"Do you know what I realized today?" she asked, letting the knitting needles fall into her lap. Clasping her hands over her middle and looking wide-eyed at the floor, she continued, "I realized that I haven't given my hair a good washing in at least three weeks."

It took Victor a moment to try and come up with an answer to that. He hadn't noticed anything amiss about her hair lately. Besides that, he couldn't see what her hair had to do with the fact that she was out of bed and knitting at two in the morning. He looked at her, sitting there looking so forlorn, wondering what he could say to make her feel better.

"I haven't noticed," Victor finally replied honestly. "Your hair looks nice. It always does." But that obviously wasn't the response Victoria was looking for. She lifted her head and looked over at him.

"But that isn't the point at all!" she said, waving her hands about her face the way she always did when she was agitated. This was beginning to get a little weird, in Victor's opinion--perhaps he was dreaming. Usually he could keep up just fine with whatever Victoria was talking about, but at the moment he was at a complete loss. What was she so upset about?

"It's...not?" Victor asked carefully, not wanting to upset her further. In response Victoria shook her head, making the stray strands of hair that had escaped from her braid whip about her face. She was starting to look just a little...well, crazed.

"No, it's not. Oh, Victor," Victoria said, holding her hands against her chest. The forgotten knitting slid from her lap and fell to the floor. Her face was all scrunched up, and her cheeks had gone a bit pinker than usual. Victor was dimly aware that his mouth was hanging open as he stared at her, waiting for her to continue. He had _never _seen her in a state like this.

"Oh, Victor," she repeated, and took a deep breath. "I can't even keep track of my own hair. How am I going to take care of a baby? How can I be someone's mother if I can't even remember to wash my own _hair_?" That last came out in the most despondent, pitiful tone that Victor had ever heard.

Victor watched, still staring open-mouthed, as Victoria buried her face in her hands and burst into loud tears. He was just slightly terrified. Victoria _never _cried. She might get misty-eyed now and then, but dramatic displays like this one were very unlike her. Victor always thought of Victoria's emotions as being sort of like a boiler. And she had a very tight grip on the release valve, with a tendency to keep all of the steam firmly within its proper boundaries. Whenever she was under pressure, she'd lean on the valve a little harder. Surely, explosions now and then were to be expected. But it had never happened before--or if it had, Victoria had made sure to never let him see it.

"Oh, Victoria," he said, throwing the covers aside and getting out of bed. He crossed the room to stand next to her chair. For a moment he stood there, feeling useless. Then Victor reached out and pulled her carefully to him. Gently, he held her head against his middle, running one hand over her hair. Victoria reached up and held his forearm, pressing her face against him, still crying. This was one of those times where Victor was pretty sure he didn't need to say anything--he just needed to stand there, to be present. So for a minute or two he just let Victoria cry, keeping up a rhythm of stroking her hair and rocking gently back and forth.

"I'm not ready," she finally said, her voice muffled as she spoke into his nightshirt. "I cannot do this...I'm simply not ready." Suddenly she tightened her grip on his arm. "I should be ready, I'm supposed to be ready...but Victor...I'm _frightened_."

"Of what, darling?" Victor asked gently, knowing how much it took for her to admit that she was afraid of something. Victoria had to take a shuddering breath before she answered. When she did, the words came out in a teary rush.

"What if...what if something goes wrong? I don't know what to expect--that frightens me. Suppose...suppose something awful happens? What will I do? What will _you _do?"

"Nothing's going to go wrong," Victor said firmly, looking down at the top of her head.

"But we don't _know_ that."

That stopped Victor for a moment. No, they didn't know for sure--how could they? What could he say to reassure her?

"No, we don't know for certain," he finally said. "But we can't spend our time worrying about it, can we? You'll be all right." He paused. _I, of all people, _he thought, _have just told someone not to spend their time worrying._

"You'll be all right, Victoria," Victor repeated, trying to make his tone as reassuring as he possibly could. "We'll all be fine." Then, grinning a little, he said, "I mean, you're as sturdy as a French pony, remember?"

The words had their intended effect--Victoria gave a muffled, watery little chuckle. Finally she pulled back, wiping her eyes. Soon enough she had managed to pull herself together a bit, and she looked up at him with a watery smile before glancing away again.

"That was quite the production, wasn't it?" she asked through a wavery laugh. She took a deep breath. "I'm all right now."

"I think you needed that," Victor told her. He brushed some of the wayward strands of hair out of her eyes. "Why not come to bed now?"

Victoria nodded. Gently, Victor took her by the elbows and eased her out of her chair. After seeing her into bed, he put out the lamp. Within moments they were snugly side-by-side, huddled under the covers against the chill. After a while, Victoria gave a sigh, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"It won't be long now," she whispered.

"No, it won't be," Victor replied, returning the squeeze. With a bit of difficulty, Victoria managed to turn on her side, her back to him. Following her movement, Victor spooned himself against her back, his face in her hair.

"We'll be fine," Victoria said, sounding as though she were reassuring herself more than him.

"We'll be fine," Victor repeated.

Even for all that, it was quite a while before either of them fell asleep.


	11. October 16th

XI. Zero Hour

Monday. October sixteenth. Any day now.

It had been a tense past couple of days--it seemed to Victor that the atmosphere in the house was one of waiting for a cannon to go off. Every day seemed to blend into the next--it was all about waiting, now. Mrs. Reed had taken to keeping close at hand, just in case, which meant that most of her days were spent in the kitchen. Victor thought it must get terribly boring in there after awhile. But still, it was nice to know that she was nearby.

October sixteenth--Victor and Victoria had taken to announcing the date to each other every morning, since it might turn out to be their child's birthday. Just after teatime, they were in the parlor. The late afternoon was incredibly gray, and the sky itself seemed to be pushing against the bay window. Victoria had been in a funny mood all day. In response to his repeated questions, she'd only said that she felt a little strange--but that he shouldn't worry. So now she sat on the sofa, head back and eyes closed, her back propped up by several pillows and her feet resting on a small embroidered footstool. Victor was at the piano, almost with his back to her. He kept interrupting his playing in order to turn around and make sure Victoria was all right.

"Please, do keep playing," she finally said after the fourth time he'd paused. "Really, it helps. And you might not believe this, but the baby seems to like your playing as well," she added with a smile. Victor returned the smile.

"Remarkable," he said quietly. Turning back to the keys, he added, "I can't deny two requests. What shall it be?" Victoria was quiet for a moment.

"Number sixteen," she replied. "That one cheers me up."

Victor knew that by "number sixteen" she meant the Mozart sonata. Even though Victoria couldn't play the piano herself, she'd developed a real appreciation for music over the past three years. And she really had a fondness for Mozart--the first time he'd played a Mozart piece for her (on their honeymoon, that had been), she'd said that she could feel the music in the pit of her stomach. There were some real depths to Victoria, Victor had found. She might not dance in the moonlight, but deep down, she was as passionate a person as he'd ever met. _Though you wouldn't think it to look at her, _Victor thought with a slightly crooked grin.

"A nice choice for today," Victor agreed, inclining his head at the dreary weather outside. And so he began to play. Soon enough, the rapid, lively music seemed to cheer the parlor.

"How do you suppose your parents are doing?" Victor asked, trying to make conversation as the piece slowed. It was more to keep Victoria alert than anything else--the last time he'd turned around he'd seen that she'd been sitting very still, her eyes still closed. Victoria gave a little sigh.

"I suppose they're fine," she replied. "They haven't been to a shooting party in years."

"I think this will be _my _parents' first shooting party," Victor said. "I do wonder..." he trailed off, feeling a trifle guilty for even thinking what he'd been about to say.

"What do you wonder?" Victoria asked absently. He shrugged and grinned a little before he said off-handedly,

"I wonder how long it will be before someone snaps and tries to use my mother for target practice."

"Victor, you're dreadful."

"I know." But still, they smiled at one another. The sonata came to an end, and for a moment he sat, running his fingers over the keys reflectively.

"Are you sorry?" he asked, turning again to face Victoria. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Sorry?" she repeated. "Whatever for?"

"Just that...your parents probably won't be here when the baby's born. You're sure that doesn't bother you?"

"No, not really. I don't think they'd have come even if they'd been home," Victoria replied after a moment. "Besides...it was our bad timing to have a baby during the shooting season," she added, quoting Maudeline sardonically.

Victor shook his head. Maudeline had said that a week ago, after announcing that she and Finis were spending a week or so at Lord someone or other's estate out in the country. Of course, the Everglots had agreed to attend _before _they knew that Nell had also wrangled herself an invitation. Chances were good, in Victor's opinion, that one of the respective mother-in-laws might not survive the holiday.

"We can always send a telegram afterwards," Victor said. Nodding, Victoria closed her eyes again and leaned back on her pillows. As she did so, she grimaced a little.

"Are you quite certain you're all right?" Victor asked, watching her closely. It took her a moment to answer. When she did, she sounded a bit breathless.

"It's nothing, I'm sure," she said, holding her bulging middle. "I simply feel a little...strange." As he watched, Victoria's face suddenly contorted, and she doubled over, her feet springing off of the footstool as she leaned forward.

"_Oh!_" she exclaimed. It sounded like a muffled scream. Victor's heart almost stopped. He jumped up from the piano bench, only faintly hearing the clatter it made as it fell to the floor. Almost in a single leap he was crouching next to the sofa, looking up into Victoria's face.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, reaching out and laying a hand on her shoulder. She was trembling, her eyes shut tight. Victor waited, scarcely breathing, for Victoria to answer. She opened her eyes after a long moment, and turned slowly to meet his worried gaze.

"That hurt," she said breathlessly, sounding almost surprised. "That _really _hurt."

"Is it...I mean...?" Victoria nodded.

"I think so."

_Oh, my goodness, _Victor thought.

"All right, everything's fine, it's all right," Victor said wildly, jumping up. "You sit right there, I'll go get Mrs. Reed." Without waiting for a response, he bounded toward the parlor door. Then he stopped, turned, and ran back to Victoria.

"Maybe you should come with me," he said, gently putting one arm around her waist. She was halfway out of her seat when he stopped again.

"Wait, no, maybe you should sit back down. You probably shouldn't be walking...but wait, you have to get upstairs, so you'll have to walk. Can you walk? I think I can carry you," Victor said in a rush. He leaned down, trying to put his other arm behind Victoria's knees.

"Victor," she said, tapping him on the shoulder. He paused, looking up at her.

"I'm fine at the moment," Victoria assured him. "I can walk." So saying, she straightened up, keeping her hand on his shoulder for balance. Victor quickly followed, taking hold of her hand, his arm still gently around her waist. He was afraid he might break her or something if he kept too tight a hold.

They made their way to the foot of the stairs. Victoria seemed all right again, much to Victor's relief. He took her face in his hands.

"I'll be right back," he said. He was just turning to head through the dining room to the kitchen to get Mrs. Reed when Victoria stopped him.

"It's happening," she whispered, laying her hands over his. "It won't be just us anymore. Everything will be different." She was smiling as she said it, though.

"A _good_ sort of different," Victor assured her, returning the smile. Then he grew more serious. "You're all right?" It seemed a stupid question as soon as he'd asked it, but he wanted to make sure.

"I'm a little...well..." Victoria tightened her grip on his hands. "Terrified," she finished, with a nervous, breathless little laugh.

"You'll be all right," he replied. Oh, how he hoped he was telling the truth. "I'll go get Mrs. Reed."

"You don't have to," a voice said from nearby. Both of them looked over, seeing plump, gray-haired Mrs. Reed bustling out of the dining room in her brisk way. They dropped their hands and turned toward her.

"I heard the commotion from the kitchen," she explained, brushing past Victor to cast an appraising eye over Victoria. Apparently satisfied, she turned to Victor.

"Was it the piano bench again, sir?" Mrs. Reed asked. Feeling a bit sheepish, he nodded. Then, he fully remembered what was going on.

"Mrs. Reed, it's...We think it's..." Victor wasn't quite sure how to phrase it. But Mrs. Reed seemed to know exactly what he was talking about.

"I told you you'd be able to tell," she said to Victoria in a low voice. Blushing faintly, Victoria nodded.

"What should we...do?" Victoria asked, laying a steadying hand on the railing.

"We stay calm, and we get you upstairs," Mrs. Reed replied. "And there's no need to get all in a rush—first babies are notoriously slow in coming." It was obvious that she'd done this many, many times. After a moment she glanced back and forth between them.

"And we could smile a bit, I suppose," she added. "You _are _going to have a baby after all, Mister and Missus." There was a brief pause, and Victor and Victoria met each others gaze. Over their worry, they both managed smiles.

"All right then," Mrs. Reed said quietly, taking Victoria's elbow and turning her toward the stairs.

_This is going so awfully fast, _Victor thought. _Steady on, then, _he told himself.

"I'm going for the doctor," he announced, trying to make his tone as manly and in-control as he possibly could. Not quite able to take his gaze away from Victoria, who had paused and turned around on the stairs to give him a reassuring look, Victor backed quickly toward the door. He didn't want to waste a moment, no matter what Mrs. Reed said. Grabbing the door handle, he depressed the little button and gave a push.

Nothing happened.

Victor paused for a moment. The door wasn't locked, he was sure. Probably just stuck. Straining a bit, he pushed once more, harder.

"Victor?" Victoria asked. "What's the matter?"

"The door won't open!" Victor replied, hoping he didn't sound too hysterical. He didn't want to worry Victoria. This was awful. He couldn't even get out of the house--why did the door choose _this _moment to stick? On the brink of panic, Victor managed to pull himself together. _I need to be calm; I need to hold myself together. Victoria can't be worrying about me right now. I need to be calm, _he thought, using the words as a combination mantra and command.

So he took a deep breath, smiled encouragingly at Victoria over his shoulder, and pushed against the door again. Nothing. Tightening his grip on the door handle, he pushed as hard as he could. Still nothing. The panic was beginning to set in again.

"Victor," he heard Victoria say. Pasting a calm, collected expression on his face, he turned toward her.

"Don't worry darling, you'll be all right, I just need to get the door unstuck," Victor said reassuringly.

"But Victor--"

"Shouldn't take a moment," he interrupted, throwing her a reassuring smile and turning back to the door. After giving the door his best glare, Victor braced himself, grabbed the handle, and practically threw himself against the door in an attempt to open it.

Unfortunately, all he did was hurt his shoulder. _I'll probably have a bruise, _he thought, rubbing his upper arm. Then he rallied. _This is for Victoria. I have got to open this door,_ he thought. Once again, Victor rammed the door with his shoulder.

"Victor, for heaven's sake!" Victoria exclaimed as he bounced off of the hard wood.

"I'm all right, I'm all right," he said, waving a hand. "It's fine. I'll go out the window."

"Victor!" Victoria said again, sounding a little exasperated. "You have to _pull _that door open!"

There was a pause. "Oh," Victor finally said. He took hold of the door handle again, and pulled. The door opened, letting in a gust of cool air. Feeling like quite an idiot, Victor reached over and pulled his overcoat from its peg.

"Let me go fetch Mr. Reed," Mrs. Reed said. "He's still not feeling all that well, but I'll go get him up. He'll get the carriage ready for you."

"Carriage?" Victor asked, turning as he pulled his overcoat on. "Thank you, but there's no time for the carriage. I'll just—Victoria, why are you looking at me that way?"

Victoria seemed to have recovered a bit from the last spasm of pain. She stood on the staircase, one hand on her protruding abdomen and the other gripping the railing. The look on her face was hard for Victor to interpret. Mrs. Reed stood there next to her, giving him an almost identical look.

"Victor, it's a half-an-hour ride in the carriage," Victoria said, breathless but patient. "If you walk, it will take longer."

"Mr. Reed can get the carriage ready in no time," Mrs. Reed added.

"I don't plan on walking—I plan on running," Victor said, pulling the door open wider and taking a step over the threshold.

"But Victor--" Victoria began. She didn't get to finish her sentence, though—once again she gasped and doubled over, moaning just a little. Mrs. Reed placed a soothing arm around Victoria's shoulders, murmuring something encouraging that Victor didn't catch. Watching her, Victor had to take a deep breath to keep himself together. Though judging by the way his hands were shaking, and how his knees had gone all wobbly, deep breaths weren't working all that well. It was very hard, seeing Victoria in that much pain. Finally, Victoria managed to straighten up a little. She waved a hand at him.

"Go, please...anything you like...just go," she said breathlessly. Victor paused for a moment, halfway out the door. Their eyes met.

"I'll be back in no time," Victor said. Then, deciding that he didn't care that Mrs. Reed could hear, he added, "I love you, Victoria." Even from his spot at the door, he could see her swallow hard.

"I love you, too, Victor," she replied, managing a small smile.

"Come along, let's get you upstairs," Mrs. Reed said. With that, the two of them began making their slow way up the staircase.

Victor watched them until they were out of sight, his heart in his throat. Then, taking another deep breath, he took off as fast as he possibly could into the misty twilight.


	12. Waiting

XII.

It was starting to drizzle, and was growing darker by the minute as Victor tore down the drive and out onto the road that led to the bridge.

The misty rain was making everything slick and muddy. He was probably getting mud all over his trousers, but at the moment it couldn't matter less. A million different thoughts seemed to go through his mind as he ran--they were all disconnected, little flashes--wondering about Victoria, focusing on getting to Dr. Van Ekel's as quickly as he possibly could.

He had no idea how long it took him to get to the doctor's house--it seemed as though he'd flown there, that's how little he remembered of his trip. Dr. Van Ekel's house was actually rather close to the fish market, right on the square. It was newer than the two buildings next to it, and was in much better shape. A little placard on the door announced, "Gregor Van Ekel, Physician." Victor had never noticed before that the doctor had almost been his next-door neighbor. His parents' house was dark, as was the Everglots'. Then he remembered that they were all away. _It's me and Victoria, _he found himself thinking.

Starting to shiver a bit in the chilly drizzle, Victor stood on the doctor's front steps gasping for breath. It occurred to him that he'd just run almost a mile and a half without stopping. Once he'd got some of his breath back, and his heartbeat had slowed to a relatively normal pace, he rang the bell. When no one answered immediately, he started knocking, not letting up until he heard footsteps on the other side of the door.

"Please, is the doctor in?" Victor asked as soon as the door opened. The woman who answered it was obviously a maid, judging by the uniform.

"Do come in, sir," the maid replied, opening the door more widely. But Victor shook his head.

"I just need the doctor," he said quickly. "Please, it's urgent."

"Shall I tell him who is calling?" Victor closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath through his nose.

"Victor Van Dort," he replied, as evenly as he could. "It's my wife. The doctor...he's needed at a birth." Victor felt a bit funny, saying that out loud to a stranger. It didn't seem...proper, somehow. But the maid gave him an assessing sort of look, then shrugged.

"As you wish. Just a moment, please," she said, and, after hesitating for just a moment, shut the door in Victor's face.

Anxious, Victor thrust his hands into the pockets of his overcoat and stood there on the stoop, hunched against the rain. Maybe he _should _have accepted the invitation to wait indoors. Behind him he heard the sound of a carriage clattering past on the cobblestones, and he turned to look. In the dimness, the lanterns that hung near the driver's seat looked almost like beacons, illuminating the Van Dort's Fish advertisement on the side of the carriage. The carriage slowed, and pulled to a stop in front of the doctor's house. Squinting, Victor tried to see inside the carriage.

"Quite a night to be out visiting," said a voice. After a moment, William leaned his head out of the carriage window, pulling his top hat forward a bit to keep the rain out of his face.

"Father!" Victor said, surprised. "I thought you were at the shooting party."

"I had some things to finish up at work," William replied. "I'll be heading off tomorrow. What are you up to?"

"It's Victoria," Victor explained. To elaborate, he gestured at the placard on the doctor's door. _What is Dr. Van Ekel doing? Where **is **he? _Victor thought, beginning to get a little impatient. For all he knew, the baby could be born already. William glanced at the doctor's door, then turned his attention back to Victor.

"That time, is it?" William asked. Then, grinning, he winked and gave Victor the thumbs-up.

"Good work, Victor. Knew you had it in you," he said.

"Er...thank you," Victor replied. Just then, Dr. Van Ekel came waddling onto the front stoop, carrying his little black bag. _Finally! _

"Evening, Mr. Van Dort. Let's be on our way, shall we?" Dr. Van Ekel said, closing the door. Glancing up and down the street, he asked, "Where's your carriage?"

"I...didn't bring one," Victor replied. The doctor cocked an eyebrow.

"You _walked _here?"

"Not exactly. I ran most of the way." William chuckled from the carriage.

"Made good time," he remarked. Then, swinging the carriage door open, he said, "Why not take mine?" When Victor and the doctor didn't immediately reply, William gestured them forward.

"Come on then, hop in," he said. "Are we going to get this done or aren't we?"

_We? _Victor thought as he allowed the doctor to climb into the carriage before him. Quickly he followed, settling himself next to his father. William leaned out the carriage window to look up at the driver.

"Slight change of plans," he said. "We're going to my son's house instead." The driver said something that Victor couldn't hear. In any case, the carriage jolted away from the curb, and headed out of the town gates.

As much as Victor hated to admit it, the trip _was _quicker in a carriage. Especially quick, actually, the way that William's driver drove.

Soon enough, they were pulling up the drive in front of Victor and Victoria's house. Victor practically leapt at the carriage door, almost tripping as he exited the carriage as fast as he could. He held the door for the doctor, and was just about to shut it again and thank his father for the ride when William stopped him.

"What are you doing?" William asked, stopping the door with his cane. "I'm coming along. If you don't mind, that is." With that, William stepped out of the carriage.

"You can leave," he said to the driver. "My son's driver will give me a lift back." Before Victor could say anything, the carriage was leaving.

"You're staying?" Victor asked. He held up a hand. "No, really, I couldn't ask you to--"

"Oh, nonsense. I'll bet you could use some company," William replied, brushing past Victor to head up onto the porch alongside the doctor.

"What about the shooting party? Won't Mother be upset if you're late?" Victor asked, trotting to catch up. True, he didn't really want to be alone...but he didn't really want to spend the evening with his father, either. William waved a hand.

"Eh, she'll be all right," he replied. Victor sighed.

"All right," he said, opening the front door and gesturing his father and the doctor inside.

O---O

"You're liable to wear a hole in this nice new carpet if you keep that up," William remarked. "My giddy aunt, you're making me dizzy."

For the past hour or so, Victor had been pacing all over the parlor. He just didn't know what to do with himself. The doctor had not been happy when he'd arrived to find that Victoria had quite a way to go yet. Well, how was Victor supposed to tell? It wasn't as though he'd done this before. After offers of extra payment, the doctor had agreed to stay at Victoria's bedside, despite how long it was probably going to take. So now Dr. Van Ekel was in Victoria's bedroom, presumably with the newspaper that he'd taken the time to nick from the hall table on his last trip downstairs. As for Victoria...Victor didn't know. And it was driving him mad.

So he kept up his pacing, stopping to look out the window, picking things up and putting them back down again, and generally feeling pretty useless. Matters were entirely out of his hands. Victor was too consumed with his own thoughts to acknowledge that his father had spoken.

William, for his part, seemed fine. He'd lost no time installing himself in Victor's armchair near the fireplace. He'd been sitting there attempting to make conversation--mostly about the cannery--for quite a while, despite Victor's making it quite clear (or so Victor thought), that he really wasn't in the mood for conversation. Especially not about fish.

"How about a drink?" William asked, trying again. "That'll calm you down."

"No, thank you," Victor said absently, looking at the floor as he paced past the armchair.

"Well, I could use a drink," William said. That stopped Victor for a moment. Turning, he gave his father a questioning look. In response, William shrugged and then spread his arms.

"I think a toast is in order!" he said. "I'm going to be a grandfather. And you're going to be a father! Imagine," he continued, leaning forward on his cane and looking into the fireplace. "You've got a wife, a house, and now a baby. Victor, you're a person!"

Victor supposed that that was meant as a clumsy compliment, so he didn't mention the fact that he didn't have a baby _yet_.

"Um...there might be some tea in the kitchen," Victor said, running a hand over his eyes. "I can go look. It's probably cold, but--"

"Anything stronger?" William asked, cutting him off.

"No, we don't keep anything like that in the house." Victor dropped onto the sofa, moving the pillows that Victoria had been using earlier out of the way. It seemed like an eternity ago, even though it had only been about three hours. Or was it four?

William seemed taken aback. "Well," he said, tapping his cane on the floor for emphasis. "I know what I'm getting you for a birthday present, then."

Victor didn't bother to respond. He just sat, tapping his hand against the sofa's armrest. He wished he could go see Victoria. He wanted to assure himself that she was all right. But of course he couldn't--it wasn't his place to be present when a baby was being born. So he sighed, leaning his head back and staring at the ceiling.

"Why not go to sleep, if you need something to do?" William asked. He glanced at the clock. "It's only nine, but going to bed early's good for you."

"Sleep?" Victor repeated, incredulous. He sat up. "Sleep? How am I supposed to sleep?" It seemed awful to Victor that he should even think about sleeping while Victoria was spending a painful night without him.

"In my experience, it's rather easy," William replied, picking a piece of lint off of his cuff. "You lay down, close your eyes, and sleep generally follows." William found that little quip to be much more amusing than Victor did. Victor couldn't help rolling his eyes.

"Yes, thank you, Father," he said. Then, surprising himself, he asked, "I suppose you were able to sleep when I was...you know..."

"Born?" William finished. When Victor nodded, his father shook his head. "No, I didn't sleep when you arrived."

Rather surprised, Victor leaned forward a bit. He was warmed by that little revelation. Warmed, that is, until William added,

"You were born in the afternoon. Generally speaking, I sleep in the nighttime."

"Oh," Victor replied. Then, for whatever reason, it suddenly occurred to Victor that his father had been in the same place that he was at the moment, once upon a time. There were things he wanted to ask, but wasn't sure how. He and his father had never been all that close, but still...William _was _Victor's father. Victor remembered that day, months ago, when he and Victoria had visited the Everglots with the news that Victoria was pregnant. Maudeline had shocked them both that day. Perhaps, under the circumstances, Victor could be allowed to venture a question or two that he normally wouldn't.

"Father..." Victor began. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say.

"Yes?" William prompted after a moment. For a few seconds they stared at one another.

"I'm...I'm going to be someone's father," Victor finally said. Luckily, William seemed to understand the implication behind that obvious declaration.

"You'll be fine," he said, speaking in a tone Victor had only heard him use rarely. "It's quite something, really, having children. After all, it's what we're here for, isn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose it is," Victor replied. "But...Victoria..." Feebly, he gestured toward the ceiling, hoping his father would understand what he meant.

"Oh, she'll be fine, too," William said. "I've told you before, you hooked a real winner."

_If you only knew, _Victor thought.

"Yes," his father continued reflectively, looking at Victor carefully. "Nothing quite like it. I'd say you really can't help caring about your children. No feeling like it."

An awkward pause followed that pronouncement. William appeared to have embarrassed himself, judging by the way he tapped his cane and looked into the fire. Victor regarded his father. He'd never once, not _once_, really thought that his parents cared about him--at least, not as anything more than a pawn to use to "marry up." He could tell that his father wanted to let the matter drop, but now Victor wanted to know. He'd probably never get another chance like this one. After twenty-two years, he felt that he was entitled. Though it was probably only the present circumstances that led him to be so curious about it. He already loved his son or daughter, but he honestly couldn't comprehend his parents having that same feeling toward him.

"Father, you mean that you actually, well..._like _me?" Victor asked. That was the only way he could think to phrase the question that didn't sound improper.

"Please don't ask me stupid questions, Victor," William replied. But Victor went on anyway.

"And Mother?" he pressed, regretting it even as he spoke. But he wanted to know. "She doesn't care about me, I know that much."

"Careful there," William said, turning toward him again. "She's your mother. Of course she cares about you."

Victor was struck dumb for a second. "I find that hard to believe," he finally replied.

"Well, she does," William said firmly. Then, after thinking for a moment, he added, "But no, you're right in a way--she _doesn't _like you very much."

"Thank you very much," Victor said, almost in a mutter. He leaned his head back again. _I am so glad Victoria is nothing like Mother, _he thought. _Victoria already loves the baby, too._

"All I meant was that you and your mother aren't all that much alike," William suddenly said. "True, she doesn't have a lot of patience for you, but that doesn't mean she doesn't care about you. Somewhere...er, deep, _deep _down. And now we're through talking about it, all right?"

"All right," Victor replied at length. After a moment, William started talking about something related to work--salmon, from what Victor managed to catch. But he wasn't really listening. His thoughts were with Victoria. Also, he was thinking over what his father had just told him. Parental feelings were something entirely new--William was right, there didn't seem to be anything quite like it. Victor's stomach clenched when he realized how easily he could have missed this. There would have been no children for him if events three years ago had gone differently. He felt very sorry, once again, that Emily had been robbed of the opportunity to have a family. It was terrible, and unfair. She probably would have made a wonderful mother.

_Thank you, _Victor thought to himself, taking a moment to conjure up Emily's face in his mind. _Victoria and I both thank you. We wouldn't have wanted to miss out on this, not for the world._ Staring at the ceiling, he blinked slowly.

_Victoria, we're going to be fine._


	13. News

XIII.

The grandfather clock in the dim parlor struck three o'clock in the morning as rain pattered against the windows, William snored in the armchair, and Victor slowly went insane.

_I can't take too much more of this, _he thought. He was sitting on the sofa, elbows on his knees and wringing his hands, staring off into space with his lips pressed tightly together. It had been hours. What was going on? Nobody had come down to tell him anything, and he hadn't heard a sound from upstairs. What if something awful had happened? What if Victoria was having trouble? Victor buried his head in his hands.

After a moment he lifted his head. An idea had struck him. _I really shouldn't, _he thought, glancing at the parlor door. Sitting up straighter, he dried his clammy palms on the knees of his trousers. _Then again, _he thought, _nobody's **said **I shouldn't. And Victoria's my wife. I've a right to know._

He glanced at William, who was sound asleep in the armchair. What he was planning was quite improper, but Victor was at the point where he was past caring. So he nodded to himself and got up, striding toward the parlor door.

When he got to the foot of the stairs he paused, listening. Everything seemed pretty quiet--but then, noise didn't travel all that easily in this house. Victor took a deep breath and made his way up the staircase as quickly and quietly as he could. As he neared the second floor, he thought he could hear some sort of noise coming from Victoria's room. It was faint, though, and he couldn't tell whether it was good or bad.

Soon enough he was right outside Victoria's bedroom door. Victor raised a fist, considering knocking to announce himself, but quickly decided that probably wasn't a good idea. So he just leaned in, putting his ear to the door.

Mrs. Reed's voice was audible, as was the doctor's. Victor couldn't make out the words, however. What worried him was that he didn't hear Victoria's voice at all. For quite a few minutes he simply stood there at the door, feeling like a sneak in his own house.

Then he heard a groan. The sound made him straighten up, keening his ears. The groan was quickly followed by another, and another. The noise culminated in a muffled shriek, then a something almost like a sob.

It was Victoria.

Victor's heart started to race. What was going on in there? He pressed his fist to his mouth, listening to Victoria scream twice more. _She even **screams **quietly, _Victor found himself thinking. He shouldn't be up here. He couldn't stand listening to Victoria in so much pain (those muffled screams had sounded agonized), and being unable to do anything to help.

Suddenly the door swung open. Startled, Victor sprang backward. In the doorway stood Mrs. Reed, who looked extraordinarily hurried.

"Mr. Van Dort?" she asked. "What are you doing? All respect, you really shouldn't be here."

"I wanted to...I had to find out..." Victor couldn't seem to finish the sentence. Almost despite himself he glanced over the housekeeper's shoulder into Victoria's room. All he could see was the fireplace and the vanity table, and the very edge of the bed. But he could hear everything just fine. The groans and sobs seemed almost magnified with the door open, and every one cut straight into Victor's heart.

"What's going on in there?" he asked, desperate to help, to do _something_. "Aren't you helping her? Is she all right? Why don't you _do _something for her?"

Mrs. Reed's response to his volley of hysterical questions was to take him firmly by the elbows and turn him around before she shut the door. As the door snapped shut, Victor craned his neck a bit, trying to get a glimpse of Victoria. He didn't succeed. Maybe he was lucky he didn't.

"She's doing just fine," Mrs. Reed began. But Victor's eyes widened.

"She doesn't _sound _'fine'," he replied, his voice a bit hoarse.

"Really now, trust me, Mrs. Van Dort is in good hands," Mrs. Reed said soothingly as she steered him toward the top of the stairs. "She'll be just fine. And now I really must ask you to get out from under foot." With that, the housekeeper turned to the small chest near the stairs where the spare linens were kept. Reaching in, she drew out several towels. Victor watched her, trying to get his mouth to work.

"You'll...let me know? When something happens?" he finally managed to ask in that same croaky voice. Mrs. Reed nodded, then glanced pointedly down the stairs. Victor looked at her for another moment, then back at Victoria's door. Again the sounds were faint, barely reaching his ears. After a few more seconds, he scratched the back of his neck and looked at the floor before returning the nod. Apparently satisfied, and looking to be in quite a rush, Mrs. Reed practically flew back down the hall to Victoria's room. When she was out of sight, Victor turned and slowly made his way back downstairs.

William had woken up in his absence, and was stretching in the armchair when Victor walked back into the parlor.

"Any news?" William asked through a yawn. Victor shook his head as he sank back onto the sofa.

"Taking a good while, isn't it?" William asked conversationally. Victor just continued to stare at the floor. He didn't think his father's question needed an answer. Undaunted, William continued, "Ah, well. You know, I think that--"

What William thought was to forever remain a mystery. At that moment, one short, almost yelping scream cut through the still of the house. Both William and Victor jumped. There was a silence, and then, just faintly, Victor thought he could hear crying. He'd heard that sort of crying before. It sounded just like...

"Do you hear a baby crying?" Victor asked stupidly. William looked up at the ceiling.

"No," he replied after a moment of listening.

_He's mad, _Victor thought. _I distinctly heard..._But as he listened more closely, he realized that the house was still again. Perhaps it had been his imagination. Nevertheless, he jumped up from the sofa and ran out into the entry, leaving William still staring at the parlor ceiling.

Standing again at the foot of the stairs, Victor waited. He stared up into the dimness, listening. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, breathlessly waiting. The clock struck four. After the last chime of the clock, a door upstairs opened. _Oh my goodness, _Victor thought, watching a shadow pass along the hallway above him.

Victor was halfway up the stairs when the doctor was halfway down. They stood together on the landing, Victor practically bouncing from foot to foot, waiting for news.

"Well?" Victor finally said, glancing up the stairs pointedly. To his horror, Dr. Van Ekel refused to meet his eyes, staring down at the floor instead as he shook his head.

"What is it?" Victor asked, feeling desperate. The look on the doctor's face was not an encouraging one. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw William come out of the parlor to stand at the foot of the stairs, looking up at the pair on the landing.

Just when Victor was on the brink of shaking a response out of him, Dr. Van Ekel shook his head one more time and heaved a sigh. Then he looked Victor in the eye sadly.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Van Dort."

The world seemed to grind to a halt. Victor blinked slowly, and had to remind himself to breathe. _It's not what it sounds like, it can't be, it's not, _he thought desperately. He had to reach over and grab the railing for support--his knees had declared a mutiny. His chest felt as though there was a gaping hole in it. All he could do was prop himself up on the railing with a shaking hand, staring open-mouthed and wide-eyed at the doctor. _It can't be, _he thought again. William, down at the foot of the stairs, looked both pitying and concerned when Victor took a moment to glance down at him.

"Victoria," Victor managed shakily. "She's not...Is she..." There was no good way to finish that sentence. _No, please...I can't lose her, I just can't,_ he thought wildly. He swallowed hard, trying to keep a grip on himself.

"Oh, no, Mrs. Van Dort is just fine. Came through swimmingly, I daresay," Dr. Van Ekel replied. He took a handkerchief out of his sleeve and ran it across his forehead. "Knew she would--she might look a tad waifish, but she's nice and sturdy. If you don't mind my saying so."

Victor tilted his head to one side, unsure that he'd heard correctly. It took a few seconds for the doctor's words to register. When they did, a wave of relief turned his knees shaky again. _Victoria's all right,_ he thought, putting a hand over his still rapidly beating heart. But the relief was short-lasted. What was the doctor sorry about, if Victoria was fine? Suddenly it dawned on him. Oh, no..._No_...

"Then the baby..." Victor trailed off when he saw the doctor's sad, pitying look. That cold feeling around his heart was coming back. _Victoria will be crushed, _he thought. "The baby..." he tried again. Dr. Van Ekel gave a slow nod, and another sad sigh.

"Is a girl," the doctor said, looking at the floor, shaking his head.

"I beg your pardon?" Victor couldn't believe what he was hearing. He distinctly heard a relieved _"phew!"_ from William.

"A girl," the doctor repeated. "I'm very sorry."

"A girl?" Victor was speechless for a moment. _I've got a girl! I've got a daughter! And Victoria's come through fine!_

"And she's all right? The baby?" Victor managed to ask. The doctor paused for a moment.

"Oh, yes," he replied. "A perfect, healthy little thing. But you heard what I said, didn't you? She's a girl." Dr. Van Ekel seemed disturbed by the fact that Victor wasn't distraught over not having a son.

"Yes, I heard you," Victor said, waving the doctor off. He turned to look down the stairs at William, grinning madly. "Father, I've got a daughter!"

"So I heard," William said. He gave Victor the thumbs-up. Victor, for his part, wanted to burst out laughing. But somehow he managed to keep himself under control, satisfied with a wide smile.

But the doctor refused to let up. "You'll have to try again if you want to have someone to carry on the family name," he said. "Bad luck."

Turning, Victor narrowed his eyes at Dr. Van Ekel. Then he straightened, pulling his shoulders back. He was not the type of person who regularly looked down his nose at people, but he did so now.

"Just for scaring me," Victor said, going so far as to point a finger, "I'm not paying your fee." With that, Victor turned on his heel and practically raced up the remaining stairs, leaving a dumbfounded Dr. Van Ekel behind him.


	14. A Moment

XIV.

"May I come in yet?" Victor asked for what felt like the hundredth time. Once again he was standing outside Victoria's closed bedroom door. He'd been there for a good half hour already, waiting until Mrs. Reed would allow him inside. Dr. Van Ekel was down in the parlor with William, probably still bemoaning the fact that there was no male child to lead the new generation of Van Dorts. On his way upstairs, Victor had heard the doctor beginning to rave about not being paid, and his father trying to calm the doctor down. Maybe it _was _too bad that they didn't keep drink stronger than tea in the house.

"Yes, yes," Mrs. Reed said from the other side of the door. In moments the door opened, and Mrs. Reed was there, gesturing him inside. She was smiling widely.

"Sorry for the wait, sir," she said. Then, lowering her voice, she added, "Do call me back in when you're through." Before Victor had time to thank her, she was out the door and softly closing it behind her.

The room was very warm--there was a roaring fire. It was still rather dim, even with the curtains open, since the rain hadn't fully let up. But there, in the bed, propped into a half-sitting position on a pile of pillows, was Victoria. She was cradling a little blanketed bundle in her arms, and was beaming at him. There were tired lines around her eyes, her hair fell limply around her shoulders, and she looked as though she'd had a real time of it. It showed in her eyes--there was an entirely different sort of air about her.

Even so, Victoria had never looked prettier. Victor had never seen someone looking so absolutely and incredibly...well, _happy_.

Almost in awe, Victor just stood there near the door for a moment or two, gazing at Victoria and their daughter. Their daughter. _What a lovely picture, _Victor thought, regarding them.

"Victor," Victoria finally said, sounding as though she were ready to laugh and cry at the same time, "come and meet Lydia."

He had to blink a couple of times to hold himself together. After taking a deep breath, he walked over to the bed and took a seat on the edge. Victoria winced a little as the mattress jostled, but quickly recovered.

"Oh, Victoria," he said, reaching out to stroke her hair. "Are you all right?"

"We both are," she replied, smiling down at the baby.

For a long while neither of them said a word. It didn't really seem necessary to say anything. All Victor could think about was how, after all this time, there they were--a family. He and Victoria actually had a family. From now on, it wasn't just Victor and Victoria, but Victor, Victoria, and Lydia. He couldn't help wanting to try the name out, now that there was a little person to connect it to.

"Good morning, Lydia," he said softly, reaching out a tentative hand. As gently and carefully as he could, he ran his hand over the baby's head. At his touch, she woke up a little, fidgeting about with her eyes screwed up tight.

"Isn't she lovely?" Victoria asked. Turning toward him, she said, "Victor, I am so happy." Smiling, he leaned over and kissed her forehead gently.

"Me too," he replied. Then, for some reason, they both started to laugh. Very quietly, so quietly that it was almost silent laughter, but for a good minute Victor and Victoria sat on the bed, holding the baby between them, and giggling as though they'd lost their minds. It had been a _very _long night. Taking deep breaths, they got themselves under control. After sharing another kiss, they went back to gazing at their newborn.

"She's not..._tiny_," Victor remarked at length. When he noticed Victoria's questioning look, he clarified, "Well, Hildegarde's great-granddaughter--she was tiny. Lydia...er...isn't." Victoria laughed quietly.

"Mrs. Reed said that Lydia is the longest, skinniest baby she's ever seen," she said, stroking the baby's face gently.

"And she...well, doesn't look like you," Victor said. "I thought a girl would look like you."

Victoria adjusted her hold on Lydia, pulling her a bit closer. "So did I, actually," she admitted. "But she's your daughter, that's for certain. Just look at her."

It was true. Victor had only ever seen one photograph of himself as a baby. The last time he'd looked at it had been years ago, but he could still call up the image in his mind. The picture showed him balanced pricariously on his grandfather Van Dort's knee, both of them looking half-asleep. And really, if Victor's memory served, it could just as well have been a photograph of Lydia. Actually, the resemblance was a little eerie, now that Victor took a moment to think about it.

"She's a Van Dort, all right," he finally replied. _Eh, perhaps she'll grow out of it in a year or so, _he thought.

"Lydia Emily Van Dort," Victoria added, giving each word a gentle emphasis.

It was a lovely little moment, a memory that Victor would keep with him for the rest of his life. _And probably after, _he added to himself.

Soon, though, Victoria admitted that she was getting rather tired, and should probably rest for a while. Glancing at the clock, Victor saw that it was almost six o'clock in the morning. It had been almost twelve hours, remarkable as that seemed.

Before getting up to call Mrs. Reed back in, Victor remarked, "You know, I really think Lydia is the best thing we've done together so far." Victoria nodded.

"Yes," she said, with a little laugh in her voice, "Lydia turned out _much _better than that flowerbook we tried to put together." Victor leaned down and gave his brand-new daughter a kiss, and then pressed his lips to Victoria's damp hair.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too," she replied.

"I'll see you in a little while."

"Yes."

Victor was halfway to the door when he turned to take one more look at Victoria and Lydia. To think, how easily a moment like this might never have happened...Perhaps William had been right--perhaps this really was what people were here for. These moments, these feelings. Love.

_We'll be fine, _he said to himself. It was the first time he'd thought it that he'd been absolutely positive that it was true.

Still smiling, Victor opened the door for Mrs. Reed, and then headed back downstairs. His smile faded slightly as he neared the parlor, and recalled what he'd said to Dr. Van Ekel earlier.

Even for all the sweet and lovely moments in life, there was always the issue of the bill.


	15. Epilogue

Epilogue

"It would seem you've confused having children with attending a dessert buffet," Maudeline remarked as she looked down her nose at Victor.

"I'm sorry?" he asked. He wanted nothing more than to collect his daughter and go home. The maid was off fetching her from the parlor, and Victor was waiting in the entry with Maudeline.

"Only with the latter is it acceptable to keep going back for more," Maudeline clarified, holding her nose even higher.

Victor, holding his hands behind his back, had to try very hard to keep from rolling his eyes. He and Victoria _liked _having more than one child--it was nobody else's business, in Victor's opinion.

True, though, this time it was a bit of a...surprise. He and Victoria hadn't really intended on having another child, not after their third was born. Lydia was already eight, hard as that was to believe. Catherine had been born just a little over a year after Lydia, and then Anne had followed a year and a half after that. Three children under four years old all that the same time was enough to put anyone off having more, no matter how much one loved them. So he and Victoria had both been quite surprised when Victoria discovered that she was expecting yet again last May.

And this last time had been very hard for Victoria, for whatever reason--Victor had truly and reasonably feared for her life. Dr. Van Ekel had pulled him aside just after the birth, and warned him in a low tone that it would be a bad idea to try it again--despite the fact that that meant Victor wouldn't be getting a son.

But everything was fine at the moment. The newborn, who they'd named Mary, was just as healthy as her sisters, if a little small. Victoria had been exhausted and a little ill when he'd left the house, but the doctor said she'd be fine soon enough. Once Victor had made sure that _Victoria _thought she'd be fine, he'd left to collect the older children from their grandparents.

Anne, who was losing her place as the baby after five years, was the one who was staying with Maudeline and Finis. Both sets of grandparents flatly refused to have all three children at once, and quiet, shy little Anne was the granddaughter the Everglots could stand. Since she was on her own, Victor had decided to pick Anne up first. No doubt she'd spent yesterday and most of today sitting quietly by herself in the Everglot's parlor.

Luckily, Victor didn't have to put up with Maudeline for very much longer. After a few moments, the maid was walking briskly toward them with Anne trailing behind.

"Anne, you've got a new sister," Victor informed her cheerily. He stooped to pick her up, but changed his mind in mid-bend after catching sight of Maudeline's disapproving look.

"Where is Mother?" Anne asked, slipping her hand into his before looking up at him. She really did look a lot like Victoria, only with a paler complexion and hair the shade of Victor's.

"At home," he replied. "And she's just fine," he thought to add. Anne looked relieved. She'd been much more worried about the impending birth than her sisters had been. Perhaps the worrywart trait came with Victor's hair, or something.

"Well then," Maudeline said. "You'll want to be off. I suppose Finis and I will see you at Christmas." With that, she turned and walked off toward the parlor, leaving Victor and Anne near the front door.

"Let's go get your sisters," Victor said after a moment, swinging Anne's hand gently. "Then we can go home." Anne nodded, and the two of them walked out the front door and headed across the square.

O---O

"Please, if the tall one's going to visit us, _don't _let her wear those boyish sailor-suit dresses," Nell said, whipping open her fan and putting a hand on her hip. "I spent half the day thinking I'd traveled back in time. It's downright creepy."

At the moment, Victor and the children were standing with Nell and William on the front steps of the Van Dort mansion. Catherine was tugging intermittently on Victor's hand, trying to get him going. She was quite excited about the new baby--Victoria had remarked that she was probably looking forward to the idea of having a sort of living doll. Lydia was watching her with definite distaste. Victor thought that, as the oldest, she was probably more used to the idea of new siblings. Anne, for her part, had buried her face in the back of Victor's knee as soon as the front door had opened--Nell made her incredibly nervous, a feeling that Victor understood very well.

"Sorry," Victor replied, not meaning it at all. By "the tall one," Nell of course meant Lydia. For an eight-year-old, she was incredibly tall, taller even than Victor had been at her age. Instead of lessening, Lydia's resemblance to Victor had only gotten more apparent over the years. Her hair was long, of course, and perhaps her eyes and mouth were a bit more feminine, but those were the only differences between them. As much as Victor hated to agree with his mother, it _was _rather creepy. Sort of like having a little doppelganger around the house.

"Well, thank you for watching them. How did they behave?" Victor asked warily, seeing the look on his mother's face, and then glancing over at Lydia and Catherine. Neither he nor Victoria had any idea where their two oldest daughters had learned to bicker the way they did--not from Victor and Victoria, that was certain. Nevertheless, he estimated that the longest the two of them had ever gone without arguing with one another was an hour. Two, perhaps, at the outside. It was probably because they were as dissimilar in personality as they were in looks. Catherine had turned out to be a short, rather plump little girl (probably courtesy of Nell's bloodline), and she had a very round face. Where Lydia was serious and very much a little realist, Catherine was quite romantic and, well, flighty.

"Behave? Eh, once we got them in separate parts of the house, it was fine," William replied.

"May we go now?" Lydia asked. "I want to make sure Mother is all right." Obviously, Victor's word was not enough on such important matters. Before he could reply, Catherine chimed in.

"_I _want to see the baby!" she said. "Is she very little? Oh, she must be _darling_!"

"She is, she is," Victor replied. Then, reconsidering, he quickly added, "But of course, you all were. _Are_, I mean...Well, perhaps not darling, since you're older, but...You know, why don't we just go home now?"

After a round of good-byes and congratulations from William, Victor led the girls back to the waiting carriage.

O---O

"Go on," Victor said gently, ushering the girls forward into Victoria's room after Mrs. Reed had opened the door. "Mother wants to see you."

Although in all honesty, Victoria looked to be in worse shape than she had been when he'd left. The girls approached the bedside, and Victoria smiled thinly at them.

"Hello," she said, not quite sounding like herself. She was speaking in a slightly dreamy tone. "Were you all good for your grandparents? My goodness, you all look so...fuzzy." Sighing, Victoria sank back into the pillows. The girls all looked at one another, and then up at Victor, looking for some guidance.

"Come along," he said as cheerily as he could while keeping a curious and concerned eye on Victoria. Herding the children over to the bassinet near the foot of the bed, he continued, "Meet your little sister."

Victor stood back a bit as the girls leaned over the baby. None of them were exactly squealing with delight, but they looked pleased and impressed enough.

"Hello, Mary," Lydia said. She looked her infant sister over critically, then glanced up at Victor. "She's terribly tiny, isn't she?"

"I think she's darling," Catherine said, reaching down and adjusting the baby's blanket slightly. "Look how little her feet are! Look, Anne!"

"I see," Anne said, peering at the baby. She was just tall enough to be roughly at nose-level with the bassinet's edge. "She's got big eyes, like Mother's," she added after a moment. So saying, she walked back over to Victor and slipped her hand into his, looking to be deep in thought.

"You don't sound very excited," Catherine said. "Aren't you excited?" Before Anne could answer, Lydia waved her hand and made a shushing noise.

"Catherine, be _quiet_, you're going to wake the baby up," she hissed. Immediately Catherine's eyes narrowed.

"I _was _being quiet. _You're _going to wake the baby up, if you keep jostling the bassinet like that."

"I never jostled it!"

"Girls!" Victor whispered as firmly as he could. Luckily, it seemed to be enough to stop them, especially when he gestured pointedly at Victoria, who was still laying woozily in bed, her eyes barely open.

"I think it's best if we all go now," Mrs. Reed said, putting her hands gently on Lydia and Catherine's shoulders. "Your mother needs some time to rest."

Before allowing themselves to be led from the room by Mrs. Reed, all three children went over to the bedside to give Victoria kisses. Victoria happily but tiredly returned their embraces. It seemed as though she could hardly lift her arms, something that wasn't lost on her daughters. They all looked quite worried when they left the room, Mrs. Reed following and closing the door behind them. Victor decided he'd join them downstairs in a while to reassure them, and hopefully cheer them up a bit.

"Don't worry...I'll be up and about in no time," Victoria assured them just as the door swung shut. "Oh no...They've gone already," she said hazily. Victor sat on the edge of the bed at her side, just as he'd done three times before.

"Victoria, how are you feeling?" he asked, glancing at her pale face and rather sweaty hair. She waved her hand about feebly, as though trying to choose her words. Her eyes were nearly shut, and she looked more asleep than awake.

"The doctor...gave me morphine," Victoria explained, sighing and blinking slowly.

"Oh," Victor said.

"Quite a bit of morphine."

"I can tell," Victor replied, stroking her hair. After a few moments, Victoria seemed to fall asleep, breathing heavily.

"I'll come see you later," Victor whispered in her ear, not really sure if she could hear him or not. Before heading out of the room, Victor stopped at the bassinet to look again at his youngest daughter. She'd be the last one. Mary. Victor reached down to touch the baby's cheek, all the while giving silent thanks for the fact that Victoria had come through so well. Four times now.

"How many does this make?" Victoria asked suddenly. Victor turned, surprised. He'd been sure she'd fallen asleep. Her eyes were open slightly, and she looked incredibly limp and tired.

"How many what, darling?" Victor asked in return, thinking that Victoria was probably half-dreaming.

"Children. How many?"

"Four," Victor replied with a smile. He looked down at Mary in the bassinet again, reaching down to stroke the baby's tiny hand. "Four beautiful daughters."

"Four..." Victoria repeated with a sigh. Then, after a moment's silence, she added, "That's enough for two."

The End.


End file.
